Teachings of Pain
by Niarisu
Summary: Edward Elric: Age 13, State Alchemist, Dog of the Military, and being sent off to war.
1. Chapter 1: Journey's Start

Welcome to the story **_Teachings of Pain_**, a sort of manga-verse multi chapter fanfiction for Fullmetal Alchemist. This takes place roughly a year after Edward's certification, making him 13.

**Disclaimer: **Sadly, Fullmetal Alchemist is not mine, or else there'd be lots more blood and what not ;)

* * *

**_Teachings that do not speak of pain have no meaning,_**

**_Because Humankind cannot gain anything, without first giving something in return..._**

The wind was still, the skies were blue, and the weather was deceptively calm. If one were to pay more attention though, they would have noticed the eerie stillness and silence of the smaller critters, and the mass of grey just barely visible on the horizons. Within hours, the heavens would unleash upon the unsuspecting earth below a torrent of rain, as it cried its outrage and beat against itself with strikes of lightning. A fitting beginning to herald such a change in the wind.

Inside, Edward Elric was slouching as he reported in to his commanding officer. He and his brother had reported back to East HQ barely a week ago, and he had been called in this fine morning to receive his newest mission briefing. Such was the life of a State Alchemist.

He had obtained his license a bit over a year ago, and had run numerous missions for the Amestrian government. There was a mixture of little boring ones of no consequence, and some that involved traveling through much of the country. If there was one thing he had come to expect, it was that each time he stood in front of the desk in his commanding officer's office, he never knew what to expect.

Or, that was what he thought prior to today. Today, however, he had a slight inkling, and despite his casual stance, he stood with a good deal of apprehension. The rumour mills had been working over time, and so, as he watched the manila envelope he had come to recognize as a mission briefing land on the table surface, and heard the Colonel's voice break the silence, he was reasonably edgy.

"Fullmetal, your mission is inside here."

Colonel Roy Mustang pushed the brown envelope across the table. The perfectly brown envelope slid smoothly, the mahogany colored desk offering little resistance, though the room was silent enough for each and every member of the room to hear the soft sound of the paper envelope sliding across wood. Edward stared down upon the envelope, the little brown envelope 'staring' up back at him with all innocence, his blond hair slightly hiding his face from view.

His hand trembled slightly as he dragged the envelope towards him slowly, and with a pause, opened. Slowly and gingerly, his fingers grasping at the off-white paper within, and pulled it out, wincing slightly as the action brought another scraping sound. The room was deathly quiet as he lifted the piece of paper gingerly.

His eyes widened as they scanned the page, as though hardly believing the message the envelope contained. All was still. And then, slowly, the sheet slipped from between nerveless fingers, drifting down upon the desk, next to the envelope with a scratching sound. But that sound alone made Roy wince, as he watched Edward carefully for the younger boy's reactions. The shock, he understood perfectly, and the nerveless fingers? That too. The Colonel sighed.

"What the-?" Edward's face was frozen, his gold eyes staring at where the sheet of paper had been between his fingers. Slowly, he lowered his hand, and picked up the sheet of paper again, his fingers failing him as they trembled, and shuddered, so that he had to try several times to pick up the piece of paper once more. Reading its contents over again, Roy could see the lines on Edward's face tighten, his lips drawn. And then, the blond boy lifted his eyes up to meet the Flame Colonels, as though begging for the Colonel to burst out laughing, to reassure him that it was all a joke, and that it was April Fool's day or something. Anything. His eyes then turned to Riza, standing silently, looking for the same reassurance. But he found nothing.

His shoulders drooped, and his hair dropped over his eyes. The boy silently stuffed the paper back into the brown envelope, giving Mustang one last look, a look of utter defeat that sent shivers up the Colonel's spine. But all Roy could do was to nod at this. Fuhrer's orders and all.

Edward's lips tightened, and he nodded as well

"I understand."

No sudden outbursts. No demanding of whether or not the Colonel really meant it. No complaining about the difficulty of the task.

He turned and walked quietly out the room, the door closing behind him with a soft click, which penetrated the silence like a gun.

- - -

"Sir, you can not be serious about sending Edward to war?"

First Lieutenant Hawkeye looked up after the door had shut. The Lieutenant walked forth from her position behind Roy, and stood next to him, her eyes staring straight ahead, and her arms at her side. Her steely disposition obviously came from her years of experience in the military. She turned to Roy, and regarded the man thoughtfully, before speaking again.

"He is only 13. Sending mere children out to war does not seem to be the best course of action, nor the greatest idea."

"If you've got a problem with it, go talk to the Fuhrer." The older man sighed. He relaxed from his tense position, letting out a breath that he didn't know that he was holding, as he rubbed his temple with a gloved hand. The alchemic symbol seemed to pulse in the dim light as he did so, reminding Riza exactly why he was called the Flame Alchemist. The man sighed again, and laid his head on the table, using his hand as a pillow, slouching over, his paper work crunching under his weight. Riza's eyebrow twitched at this, though she didn't say anything about it.

"Fullmetal knew what he was getting himself into when he became a State Alchemist." Roy continued, using his free hand to pick up his pen, and to fiddle with it idly, "Although I don't think any of us expected it to happen this soon."

He looked up, his eyes resting thoughtfully at the door, which Edward had recently exited through.

"Things have moved fast for this to escalate into a full scale war that requires even the State Alchemists." He sighed again, weariness clearly slipping through, as he lowered his head, though his eyes never strayed from the door. A grin tugged at his lips as he lifted his head again, this time, his eyes straying up to the ceiling. It was a bitter smile.

"Even the state alchemists," he repeated, a wistfulness settling in his voice. "Dogs of the military, eh?"

- - -

"Well brother? What's our next mission?" A giant suit of armor shook Ed out of his thoughts. The older boy looked up from the floor tiles, which he had been so intently studying, and focused his golden eyes upon his younger brother. Upon seeing those lifeless eyes of the suit of armor, Edward dropped his eyes back on the tiled floor, before hesitatingly lifting his eyes once more to look at his little brother in the eye. The younger Elric noted his uneasy gesture, and pressed the subject.

"Well?" He asked, expectant, his voice echoing. His great body shifted as he waited patiently for his brother to speak again. He didn't have to wait long.

"Hey Al..."

Ed looked a bit hesitant. The older Elric wasn't sure how to approach the matter. He bit his bottom lip, feeling indecision rattle his conscience. Should he shield his little brother from the truth, and tell him a lie, or should he state the truth simple and straight, and wait for the explosion to follow? Which one was the lesser evil? Knowing Alphonse, he would not be pleased with either, especially the latter. But Edward could not bring himself to lie to his younger brother, even to shield him. The older boy just couldn't do it.

He hung his head.

"I think this time, it's my job only. A war. I'm a soldier. You're not."

Just as he had predicted, Alphonse was clearly startled. The younger boy backed away a step from his older brother, before closing in the gap on Edward, those lifeless eyes of his sudden flaring, as though the soul within him was kindled. The armor which was his body rattled angrily as his voice boomed out from the depth of the hollow armor.

"But brother! You're only 13! And it can't be that bad can it?" His voice was of a begging tone, as though wishing for his older brother to reassure him that it was all right. That what he was about to be sent off to wasn't as bad as they had heard. That everything was going to be all right, and in the end, they would all come back safe and sound. Moreover, Alphonse was also incredibly startled, for Edward had just implied that he should stay behind. The younger Elric would not stand for that. He would take his place by his brother's side.

"I'm coming with you."

"What are you talking about?" The older Elric stopped his train of thought to look at his little brother with something akin to one of a stranger, as though his little brother was out of his mind. Indeed, Edward believed that his little brother was out of his mind. The older boy did not like the thought of war, and on top of that, if his little brother had to go and witness what he was about to, he didn't even want to think about what was going to happen after that. His lips drew to a tight line as he surveyed his little brother again.

"You're staying here." His tone was firm, and with a shake of his head, he turned around, his golden braid whipping about and settling on his back, a contrast to his red and black cloak. His voice quivered slightly, and his fists were clenched, but other than that, he was resolute. "You're a civilian, not some damn dog of the military." _Unlike me,_ his thoughts added._ Because it was never your fault._

"Yeah, but Brother, if I don't go, it's not like there would be anyone to look after you, and it's not like I'll be much trouble...besides, I thought we promised to always be together…" Alphonse trailed off, unsure of what to say next. It was true. It was a promise, and Edward Elric would never break a promise. Being his little brother, he knew.

"Damn it, Al." And Edward knew it too. The reminder of the promise was like a blow to the face. He shook his head again, before starting off down the hall, his back to Al and his hands jammed in his pockets. "I'm going alone this time. Go talk to the Colonel about it." He shouted behind his back as he stormed off, his platform shoes stamping angrily, the sound echoing down the hall and back again, as though a thousand Edwards were storming down the hall.

"Sheesh," the younger Elric sighed as he stood there, staring at his brother's back, his hand on his head, as though to scratch his head in a gesture of confusion and exasperation. He sighed again, and let that arm drop, before muttering to himself in wistful tones. "You'll probably slack off or something."

He looked up again to see Edward far ahead of him, turning the corner, and spurred into action, his steps heavy and echoing through the hall, each step followed by the customary clang.

"Wait Brother!"

- - -

The next morning the train station was a bustling sea of blue. For once, Ed was decked out in the military blue that was the standard issue uniform. It was then, Edward decided that he had finally found out the real reason why so many people died in wars: the uniforms were so itchy and choking, that half of them probably suffocated in them while running on the battlefield. The collar was too tight, and the sleeves were too long, and the pant legs had to be folded twice so he could walk in them. But it did do a good job blending him in the crowd though. It seemed to be the only thing that the uniform was good for. He had quite a few qualms against the uniform though, especially the size…

"Hey Fullmetal, you seem to be blending in quite well with everyone else."

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING A SUPER SHORT SHRIMP THAT YOU CAN'T EVEN SEE UNDER A MICROSCOPE?"

"Brother, he didn't go thaaaat far." The younger Elric sighed, keeping a hold on their luggage with one metal hand, while restraining his older brother with the other, the latter struggling with a venomous expression on his face directed at a certain snickering Colonel. "See, if I wasn't coming, you would be attacking our own men and getting in to trouble." Edward merely snorted angrily, before turning away from the Colonel like a sulky little kid, his arms crossed, shooting Alphonse another glare, before stomping off in the general direction on the train.

And was promptly knocked over by a stampede of soldiers also heading the same direction.

Alphonse shook his head, exasperated, before grabbing their luggage, hauling it over his back easily, and stepped in to intervene before his older brother lopped off heads

"Come on, let's get on the train."

Colonel Mustang watched Edward and Alphonse leave with a wistful expression on his face, an expression he had previously been hiding from the other two. The Colonel's eyes stared long into the backs of the two boys, watching as Alphonse untangled his older brother from the surging masses of blue uniformed men, Edward all but biting Alphonse on the arm, as Al towed his older brother towards the train awkwardly. The Colonel could distinctly hear the sound of the younger Elric's voice calling out to the people around them for them to excuse him. How different could the two Elrics get?

It made Roy wonder. It was a wonder how thoughtful and peace-loving Alphonse and rash and temperamental Edward came from the same family. He shook his head. He'd never know. But either way, if anything happened to either of them, no matter what the differences were between the two, they'd help each other through. He just hoped that it would never come to that..

_They had better be alright..._

- - -

On the train, there was much talk about the 13-year-old pipsqueak with the giant suit of armor. Much of it was centered around how short he was, why there was a suit of armor, and mostly why there was a kid being sent to war. After all, a short blond kid in an overly large blue military uniform and an even larger self-propelled metal suit of armor on a train wasn't something you'd see everyday. The Elric brothers made good gossip.

"Don't tell me that the military is recruiting 10 year old kids now."

"Look at his pocket."

"Is that a silver watch?"

"No way! How could such a shorty become a State Alchemist?"

"I heard that he's the Fullmetal Alchemist."

"More like the Full Metal Midget." Sniggering followed this comment.

Since the gossip wasn't very inconspicuous, even Edward heard. He had begun twitching uncontrollably, his eyes glinting positively dangerously as he casted the soldiers baleful glares whenever they pointed or even looked his way.

_It's like they've never seen a person in a military uniform before._

And now just WHO were they calling short? Just one more word…

"Hey pipsqueak! Shouldn't you be playing with your baby toys? This is a man's war! We've got no need for midg-"

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING SO MIDGETY THAT MAKES YOU JUST WANT TO STEP ON HIM?" Edward exploded promptly, blue alchemic light shooting in all directions, and fists flying in the general direction of the soldier who had backed away against the wall of the train nervously at the sight of a newly transmuted sword. In fact, he would have happily ripped that soldier apart, not to mention many more since it never hurt to be 'safe than sorry" (who knew how many of them had called him midgety), if it had not been Al who took the initiative to grab onto his waist, effectively stopping him from charging and beating those unfortunate men to a pulp, as well as effectively cutting off his air supply.

"Brother, it's not good to attack the people on your own side during a war!" Al sounded a bit exasperated as he forced his big brother back on his seat with a gentle push, giving the soldiers apologetic looks, and watched wearily as the soldiers all backed away until they were all huddled on the other end of the train car, discussing on who on earth was the little guy with the armor, how much of a temper he had, and just how short he would have been without his platform shoes. Edward merely huffed, re-transmutated the sword, and sat down, more than a little peeved.

"Whatever. It's not like we need them anyways. Y'know, if I had a higher rank, this would count as mutiny. Then, I could have killed them legally anyways."

"Mutiny?" Alphonse shook his head at the thought, watching as his brother's expression turned from annoying to extremely evil within seconds, "Calling you short isn't mutiny… It's merely an observation…besides, wouldn't that be pulling rank?"

The older Elric threw his arms up as though in exasperations, catching the attention of the other troops on the other end of the train. Out of the corner of his golden eyes, he saw them staring at him with something akin to fear in their eyes, and he glared back at them, waving his fist around in the air menacingly. They all turned away again. Sighing, he hunched down on his seat again, slumping forward.

"Just what I need," He complained, "My own brother turning on me. Now, who will I look to, to protect my back on the battlefield? Ah, how tragic, life as an under-appreciated older brother."

Alphonse merely sighed, deciding not to comment on that. There was silence as the train rattled on, as minutes stretched into hours, and hours stretching again, until it felt like days had passed. There was something bothering Edward though. Al was right. He was only 13, and he had never really fought anyone with the intention of killing them, let alone actually being the cause of another's death. How would he manage to survive on the battlefield? The older Elric watched as the landscape rolled by on the other side of the smudged windowpane of the train, his hand unconsciously tapping on the windowsill, his head rested on his other hand. Was he going to survive? Was Al going to survive? They had come so far into their research, yet it felt as though it was all going to end here, as though this train ride wasn't a ride to the battlefield, but more of the beginning of the end for the two Elric brothers. Edward had always trusted his instincts, and now, those instincts were telling him to turn back, to retrace his steps, and never look back down this path again, for something ominous was on the way. And it unnerved him.

"Brother, is anything wrong?"

Alphonse looked worriedly, or as worried as a suit of armor can be, at his brother. When Edward did not reply, the younger Elric reached out a hand, and pushed at his older brother's shoulder, repeating his question. Suddenly, Edward seemed to return back to reality, and he turned to Alphonse with a curious expression on his face.

"What?"

Al repeated his question once more, and Edward, after a moment of thought, shook his head carelessly, waving Al off with a gloved hand.

"No, nothing Al, I'll just take a nap I guess." Edward stifled a yawn as he curled up in his seat and closed his eyes. In moments, he was sound asleep, or so Alphonse thought, his older brother's chest rising up and down peacefully. But perhaps he wasn't asleep at all, for Al could see the hints of gold peeking through slits on his eyes. He could never be sure when his older brother was asleep or not, for Edward had become so adept at hiding it. He got his confirmation when the train hit a bump and the older Elric was jolted onto his back, his mouth slightly open, a trail of drool sliding down his face. His stomach was exposed again.

Al sighed, before covering his brother's stomach with a blanket he had on hand for such 'emergencies'. It was going to be a long ride.

- - -

Edward had a rude awakening, or at least what he thought was a rude awakening, when something pushed against his shoulders and a loud "Hey Fullmetal," pierced his foggy mind. Mustang walked into their compartment with Lt. Colonel Hughes in tow, the former swaggering slightly as he saluted the other soldiers in the cabin, before finally coming to Edward, who sat up at the voice, rubbing his eyes sleepily, glaring at the Colonel balefully between rubs. The latter walked in, saluted Edward crisply, before absent-mindedly began rummaging through his pockets as though looking for something.

"Ah, hello Colonel, Hughes-san," replied Al looking up. "Brother, Colonel Mustang is here."

"I know," The older Elric pulled himself completely upright, pulling at his uniform, not bothering to even try to smooth out the wrinkles made from him sleeping in it. "How can you miss that bastard's voice? It's so annoying, it's distinct." The older Elric yawned loudly, oblivious to the sudden gasps of the other soldiers in the train car, who were slightly mortified to hear their great colonel defaced like that. Roy only watched on with amusement as Edward straightened out his uniform before glaring at the older man darkly.

"Whatdd'ya want, Colonel?" he grumbled.

Mustang had a sly look on his face and a smirk that bode no well for the kid. The Colonel chuckled at Edward's state of being, which was rather crude, considering that his straw-colored hair was living up to its color: it was sticking out on all angles and constantly got into the shorter boy's eyes, in which he had to brush them out of his eyes with a swipe of his gloves. Edward merely glowered back at the Colonel, as though daring for Roy to make a single comment on his appearance, as well as his height. He didn't have to wait long.

"Looking short as always, Fullmetal." Came the height comment. Before Edward could splutter in rage, the Colonel went on absently, examining the symbol on the back of his ignition gloves with interest, while he spoke. "Oh nothing, really, Fullmetal, except that a certain 1st Lieutenant threatened me with a gun to get rid of a certain Lt. Colonel who was annoying her with pictures. See ya Fullmetal shorty!"

Mustang beat a hasty retreat, suppressing a chuckle as he walked away, swaggering as always. He turned back at the door, flashing Maes a thumbs-up sign as he did so.

"It's all yours, Maes!"

"Damn you, you idiot of a Colonel! What the hell did I do to deserve this?"

Interestingly enough, Ed had for once ignored the height (or lack thereof) comment in his rant about stupid, smirking Colonels that used his subordinates as human slaves and should be burnt to a crisp and deep-fried...but Edward was rudely interrupted by pictures of an adorable, cute little girl riding a tricycle shoved in his face.

"Isn't she cute? Isn't she?" Maes had sidled over onto their seat and had leant over Alphonse, who was looking rather awkward, to show pictures of his daughter. The man looked positively glowing, and slightly high, as though he were addicted to his daugher's pictures, though it was all very likely. After all, he did have a reputation for sending pictures of his daughter every time he sent a report in to the Flame Colonel. Rumor had it that the Colonel had so many of those pictures, that he fed his fireplace with them. "Doesn't it just make you want to go see her right now? Doesn't it? Mwah!"

The man hugged the picture of his daughter, hearts practically flying off of him as he expressed his love for his daughter, the typical proud father.

"Elysia-chan is really cute now isn't she Hughes-san?" Alphonse looked through the pictures with interest, or at least as much interest as a suit of armor could show. He admired the quality of the picture, easily noting that the picture was perfectly proportioned and the lighting was just right. Not only was Maes a super-dad, he also was an expert at photography. "How old is she now?"

"She just turned one a month ago! She has the same birthday as Eddie-chan right? Right?" Elated by Alphonse's interest in the pictures, Hughes took out even more pictures for them to see. A stack of them materialized into his hands, and he all but shoved him at Alphonse in his excitement. The suit of metal panicked at that, and leapt back in his seat, making Maes drop his pictures, and suddenly, the air was full of Elysia-chan flying in all different directions on sidewalks, teddy bears, and tricycles. The majority of those landed on Edward, a few getting stuck into his hair immediately.

"Argh, ack! Get those away from me!" Ed started flapping his hands at the pictures, growling as he pulled the few out of his hair, scowling at them menacingly, before flinging them back at Maes, who was trying to catch all of the falling pictures with a mournful expression on his face. "Can't someone get some sleep around here?"

"Well Brother, you _have_ slept for five hours already," Alphonse told Edward in a patient, brotherly voice, as he forced Edward back down onto his seat again like a little kid. He then looked around to the other side of the train car, before looking down at Edward again, "and I think you've woken everyone else up too."

Sure enough, all heads in the compartment had turned their way. The other soldiers were intrigued. Just who was this pipsqueak that could get away with insulting a Colonel, no, **the **Colonel, especially **the** Colonel who could fry someone into a crisp, and act on such terms with a Lt. Colonel? If any of them had...they were scared just thinking of it.

Alphonse gave those poor soldiers apologetic looks again, before turning back to Maes. The man had finally gotten back all of his pictures, and was now tucking them back into his pocket with care, humming a happy tune under his breath.

"Hughes-san, why are you here?" The younger Elric asked, quizzically, "I thought you had a desk job?"

"Yeah," Edward grumbled as he pushed the blanket that Alphonse had covered him with away from him and onto the ground carelessly, "Don't you have something better to do, other than bothering honest alchemists who are trying to sleep?"

"Well yeah, I did," Came the reply from Hughes. The man seemed to revert to a serious version of himself within seconds, something that Edward had always found amazing, "but apparently the brass wanted just about all available personnel to end this quickly before it turns into another Ishbal." Hughes stood up and adjusted his glasses with a twinkle in his eyes. He waved back at the boys cheerfully as he walked.

"Well, I'll be going back now. We're in the third compartment down. Feel free to join us."

"Well be coming later." Al replied politely, and watched as the Lt. Colonel gave them a friendly salute, before walking out the door, whistling happily. As soon as he was gone, Edward picked up the blanket from the ground, dusted it out, and pulled it over his head again. Alphonse sighed, shaking his head, before forcefully removing the blanket from Edward, tossing it into a suitcase. Edward gave Alphonse a sullen glare, before sighing.

"Dammit. No doubt Colonel Shithead will be his usual sarcastic self." Edward stood up and stretched. His silver pocket watch gleamed in the light of the train. "Wonder when dinner will be. I'm going to go ask. Might as well stretch my legs while I'm at it."

"Always thinking about your stomach as always," Alphonse teased Edward. Edward merely huffed, and agilely clambered over Al. He paused mid-Al, and tilted his head so that he would be looking at his little brother through the corner of his eyes.

"You'll be alright by yourself?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine. Go ahead brother."

In a smooth move, Alphonse slid in towards the window, and with a jerk, pushed his older brother off. There was a thump, and the Fullmetal alchemist ended up sprawled on the floor, his hair at all angles, and him looking back at Alphonse with a baleful glare upside down.

"Ow! What was that for?" Edward groaned, before attempting to push himself up from his twisted position, his uniform effectively cutting off his air supply. He gagged, before getting up and dusting his uniform off.

"Oh nothing," Alphonse said hurriedly, "but weren't you going to ask about food?" He had an adorably innocent and angelic voice on, and his posture was of a dainty little boy, who had done nothing wrong. Edward merely glared at his little brother, mentally noting to ask his littler brother where he got such a ridiculous posture, and grumbled.

"Yeah, yeah, I bet that was getting back at me for insulting that stupid Colonel."

And he left, oblivious to the looks the other soldiers were giving him.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Al found himself grinning inwardly.

"Hehe, finally some quiet." He chuckled.

- - -

Edward had come back after a bit still throwing a little tantrum. Apparently he had learned that dinner wouldn't be for a while and it would consist of a sandwich and the normal military fare. Al had calmed him down by suggesting they go visit Mustang and Ed's spirits had improved considerably when he discovered that Hughes had brought an apple pie courtesy of Gracia.

For the next few days, Ed and Al spent most of their time with Mustang and Co. and in general, the train was quiet with few explosions coming from Ed since Hawkeye had threatened Mustang with her gun to refrain from teasing Edward.

However, the day before they were due to arrive, a heavy calm settled over the whole train. It was hard to forget why they were on the train in the first place; War. Ed and Al buried themselves in books again, as Mustang studied a map of the region planning how best to attack and defend. Breda still continued playing chess, saying it sharpened the mind anyways which would help. After they disembarked from the train the following day, they took a days rest in camp before taking the three-day trek to the reserve lines after which they would transfer to the front within the day. It was cold up north though, and everyone was issued a military standard jacket. Unfortunately for Ed, the smallest size was too big for his petite frame. This caused Mustang to produce another snide remark, which in turn drew bullets from Hawkeye.

Early the next morning, the military group found that it had snowed considerably during the night and their trek would probably be more difficult. After a brief meal, everyone set off. Edward and Alphonse found themselves somewhat near the back, right behind Major Armstrong. It was still snowing and the air was bitterly cold. The wind whipped the snow around reducing visibility and cutting like knives into faces. Despite Ed's slight fear of the Major, he was glad all the same for both a landmark to follow as well as the Major blocked the wind somewhat.

He sighed. The cold was awful. He never thought that he would be this miserable before he actually got to the front. Somehow, the cold managed to find its way to his bones despite the jacket, and the jacket itself was heavy, adding even more weight for Ed's small frame to carry apart from the automail. He didn't like it. His muscles burned from the extra weight, and he was hunched over, his golden locks all but covering his face as he struggled through the snow, each step harder and harder to take, as it took more strength each time for him to pull his boots out of the snow.

Although Edward didn't complain, he wouldn't complain, he dropped farther and farther behind and Al began to worry about his brother. When they stopped for camp that night, Ed was completely exhausted. Walking for 12 hours through deep snow had taken its toll. Al did his best to keep Ed warm while he set up their tent. Fortunately, the two had been allowed their own tent due to Al's condition, as normally, one tent would occupy up to five soldiers. Although, it was the (short) Fullmetal Alchemist that was concerned here, so rules could be bent slightly to accommodate. After another small, cold meal, Ed drifted off to a restless night of sleep.

* * *

There! That was Chapter 1. Thanks much to beta Nainne. As always, I adore reviews, and you're very welcome to take a cookie in exchange for one, kay? 

Sony, signing off!


	2. Chapter 2: Complications

**A/N:** Mwah! Hullo there chapter 2. Much thanks to beta, **Nainne** (I'm certain she's glowing in praise by now...). Thanks to cuylerjade, pavement-greengrass, Merkitten, and NoZoMi17 for reviews.

**Disclaimer: **Fullmetal Alchemist and all characters belong to their respective owners.

* * *

The dawn broke over a crisp layer of freshly fallen snow, soft red light casting a crimson glow that contrasted with the blinding white of the land. The wind bit as sharply and as bitterly as before, slicing through flesh and cloth alike, causing any one foolish, or headstrong, enough to be caught outside a substantial amount of numbness.

"Brother… Brother… Wake up. It's time to go."

Edward was shaken awake by Al gently to said surroundings, taking only a few dazed moments to gather enough information for his brain to realize where he was.

He sat up.

"It's time to go… already?"

Surprisingly, Ed got ready quickly with only a few words of complaint. He was just too tired to do anything more. Al gave Edward a concerned look, as his older brother had never been so docile in getting up in the morning, especially since it was quite a bit earlier than he would be used to. Five in the morning wasn't Edward's usual time to awake. Shaking his head, and sighing, he walked out of the tent into the snow.

He wouldn't know what Edward was feeling, since he lacked the need to rest, but he supposed that the entire atmosphere and their aim as well as the massive numbers constantly moving forward was enough to even pull the tired teenager out of bed much earlier than he was used to.

Edward had slept in his clothes mostly, obliviating the need to change in this knife-like chill, and had only the need to struggle into the standard issue jacket which currently felt as if it weighed as much as his automail, as he was unaccustomed to the weight it carried. He watched on numbly as Alphonse returned from where he had been outside, a basin of hot water in his grasp. He made no indication to move as his brother placed the steaming water onto the floor of the small enclosure before leaving once again carrying Edward's military pack and returning with some food in the small tin, a flurry of wind and snow following him in from the chilly outside. Edward winced at the sudden change in temperature, rubbing his eyes as they were unaccustomed to the sharp light outside, but otherwise did nothing.

It wasn't as though he had any strength left to fight the elements anyways.

- - -

The morning meal was nothing more than some dry trail mix that the soldiers on duty had frosted with a strange mix of snow and salt in an attempt to lift the bland flavour. It didn't exactly work: it tasted as bland and as unfulfilling as ever, but Edward didn't particularly feel like complaining at the moment, a new first, and instead added a substantial amount of hot water to the mix resulting in a dull-coloured, mostly tasteless sort of gruel that at the very least didn't taste nasty, since it was rather lacking in that department, as well as warmed him up from the inside. He looked up as a gust of cold air rushed into the air, slipping down the neck of his unbuttoned jacket and sleeves, as his brother came in yet again, his large form blocking out the light from the tent entrance for a few precious seconds, before the tent flap fell, leaving Edward and Al in the relative dimness.

"Dammit," he muttered darkly, jabbing at his gruel mix despondently, not even bothering to hide his disgust, before spooning a mouthful of that stuff into his mouth. He wrinkled his nose at the blandness, before he hurriedly took a draught of water to wash the rest of the paste out of his mouth. "Why would there be border skirmishes over a place like this anyways?"

Alphonse looked up, wry amusement etched over cold iron features.

"I'm glad that you want to know, although I'm not very knowledgeable about politics, I'm certain that the Colonel might know." Al piped almost painfully cheerful, scratching the back of his armored head with a metal hand. He then perked up, as though remembering something. "Ah, and I asked Colonel Mustang and he said we're leaving in 10 minutes." When Edward continued to sit there, swirling his gruel half-heartedly, as though ignoring Al would somehow change those orders coming from that bastard, Al sighed.

"And that if you don't want to be left behind and freeze we'd better hurry, because he's not waiting for stragglers."

Edward groaned loudly at that, giving Al a murderous look, before quickly draining the rest of his gruel, washed the taste out of his mouth with a swig of water, and spat it out onto the bare, frozen ground. Al hid a smile as he sorted through their sparse belongings, keeping watch on Edward's movement out of the corner of his eyes.

They had left most back at Northern, taking enough to fit into two easily portable packs; clothes, lots of socks, a few books and brother's research journal, as well as some automail maintenance items. In no time, he straightened, both packs filled and ready to go, his metal armor clanking from the sudden movement. Edward winced.

"There. Done," he said, picking the two objects up as he urged his brother out. When Edward stared at the tent flap with a disgusted look, he gently pushed his older brother forward with a little nudge towards the tent flap. "We better go soon, and I still need to pack this up."

Edward didn't move.

"Come on, Brother!" He urged, "It's not _that_ bad out there!" Not that he would know…but a little encouragement couldn't hurt, could it?

Edward crawled out morosely, huddled into the warm lining of the jacket. He was grateful for the length of the jacket which hung down long enough so that he could sit on it, pull his knees up to his chest, and let the thick fabric fall over his legs. He plopped himself down onto the snow-covered ground, shivering slightly, and eyed his brother carefully as Alphonse pulled out the tent pegs and packed it together with deft movements. Within seconds, the younger Elric was done with the tent, the large green-gray material packed up into a small and light bundle.

"Ok brother, let's go." Alphonse stood up picking up the bundle of tent as well as the packs. Edward grunted, and got up from his position in the snow, brushing off loose flakes of snow from his jacket. Alphonse almost smiled, the thought of _I wonder who the older brother is sometimes_ passing through his mind before it became wiped with concern over Ed's docility.

The two made their way to the growing line of men who stood ready, each sheltered in their heavy jackets. Al swiveled his head as his soul-eyes searched for Colonel Mustang and headed over to him leading a mostly unresponsive brother. Even though it had only been a day, Al was worried about the toll it was taking on Edward. Maybe the Colonel could keep another eye on Ed to make sure he would be all right. He just hoped that asking the Colonel wouldn't cause any more problems for brother. That wouldn't be good.

- - -

Mustang caught the two brothers heading towards him out of the corner of his eye, and smirked in a way that Edward would have found very irritating, had he bothered to lift his eyes and notice. The man frowned inwardly when he saw the unresponsiveness Edward showed. This wasn't like Elric at all. He sighed inwardly, all the while keeping that smug smirk on his face.

"Hey, Fullmetal. What's wrong? Did you get buried in the snowfall last night?" Well, not one of his better efforts, but he had to say that the response did amuse him. Quite a lot, actually. As always.

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING SO SMALL THAT IF YOU HELD HIM UP AND COMPARED HIM TO A SINGLE FLAKE OF SNOW THE SNOWFLAKE WOULD BE BIGGER?" Edward steamed at the Colonel at the top of his lungs, arms and legs flailing in agitation as his brother held him back, an exasperated, yet concerned, and _relieved_, look in his eyes. It was good if brother could yell like that, it meant that maybe he wasn't as tired as before. He gave the Colonel a grateful look that went entirely unnoticed by Edward, who was too busy flailing around to turn around and look at his brother. The Colonel replied with a wink, which also passed over Edward's head.

Edward huffed as he crossed his arms over his chest and turned away slightly. Alphonse sighed, and bent down somewhat to convey his concerns in a soft voice to the Colonel. Mustang nodded imperceptibly as he cast a narrowed gaze at the half-profile of Fullmetal's face. Now that Alphonse mentioned it, Fullmetal did look tired, his face an unhealthy pale colour, and his eyes sunk in exhaustion. It would do well to keep an eye on him.

Uncharacteristically, Edward didn't notice their little exchange.

- - -

As the order came to move out, Edward sighed as he picked up his feet and turned his face into the knife-like wind. He growled in irritation. Just _why_ did the wind have to be blowing from the very direction they were heading in? It was probably all that damn Colonel's fault…well, not really, but still. And he had called him short!

Dammit, he'd show them that he was not too short to walk and he was not a child. He growled again, and straightened up some, with the resolve to see this through if only to prove that he _was not short_!

By the end of the day, the wind and snow had worn down every member of the unit, and yet they had fallen short on the expected progress. It was a subdued group that made camp that night, having traveled late into the evening in the hopes of continuing for as long as possible. There was little chatter, and any talk that was heard was kept to the strictly necessary business of planning: either what needed to be done upon arrival, or to ensure that they would all be getting there in one piece. Rather than the usual light banter and possible card games between the men, and rather few women, the troops rather preferred to slop down the evening meal and hit the sack instead.

Edward had barely finished eating when his eyes slipped closed against his will and he slumped against Al, who he had been sitting against. His muscles relaxed and the tin clattered to the ground, alerting Alphonse to his brother. Worry flashed in Al's eyes, and he sighed, looking down at his brother with concern. If he was this tired already, how would he withstand the entire war? But Brother was strong. Al was certain that he would be fine.

The next morning, before the sun had risen and the camp was still pitch black, the call to prepare to move out in twenty minutes came. Alphonse gently shook his brother awake, and things played out much like the previous day, apart from the obvious lack of energy and interest displayed by Edward.

Three hours into the gray dawn, Alphonse's fears were confirmed when Edward stumbled forward before collapsing, much to his later chagrin, right into the Colonel's back. Mustang turned around startled at the sudden weight, and barely managed to catch Fullmetal in time before he hit the ground. He dragged him off to the side where he would not cost the still advancing column an obstruction to their forward process. The man gave Edward a hard look as Alphonse ran over, apologizing to the Colonel, who shook off all of his apologies with a wave.

Looked like Alphonse had some valid concerns the previous day.

The things that he had noticed yesterday seemed only more pronounced now, another day's march having taken its toll. He supposed that he should not be surprised that this would have happened to such a young child, but it was still startling to take note of the hollow in his cheeks, the paleness off his skin, and the gaunt, tired look in his drawn face. Mustang stripped off one of his gloves as he held a hand at his forehead and was slightly taken aback at the burning sensation he received.

"Dammit," Mustang muttered softly to himself. What to do, what to do… He was no field surgeon, and hardly knew what to do when a child had a fever. Hell, they didn't have a field surgeon. The guy was still a few days behind their group, lagging along with the support unit. A flash of blond caught the corner of his eyes, and he turned towards the advancing column.

"Lieutenant Havoc!" The blond gave a start, turning to his left with a surprised look. But when he saw Edward collapsed, and heard the urgency in the Colonel's voice, he ran out of the ever forward pressing column towards the small group huddled around the still body.

"Sir!" Havoc saluted smartly as he neared.

"At ease. I would ask for Fullmetal to continue, although in his current state, it is not possible. Therefore, it would be best if you were to stay with Fullmetal and Alphonse for two days, or until Fullmetal recovers, whichever one comes first. If at the end of two days, he is not fit for travel, carry him if you must. Understand?" Although it had been phrased as a request, it was an order, and Havoc could not have refused even if he had wished too.

"Yes sir!"

Mustang relaxed slightly. Havoc may be slightly slow on the uptake, but he was a good officer and someone who he could entrust the boy to. "Good. I'll be going then," was the parting remark he offered over his shoulder before he jogged away to catch up to the column. Not that he needed to travel very far to regain his position: the column was moving along very slowly thanks to the weather, each man's head bowed against the snow and wind.

- - -

Alphonse had wrapped his brother in various materials, and was cradling him, Edward's small body like a young child in Alphonse's large arms. _Just like that day_… He sighed at the memory, remembering how Aunty Pinako's pipe had dropped out of her mouth when he had burst into the Rockbell residence. They had been too young and…no, not reckless, just vain in their abilities.

He looked up at the sound of crunching snow under heavy boots signaling someone's approach.

"Alphonse, how's Edward?" Havoc asked, while kneeling down to take a better look at the boy. When Al didn't answer, and merely looked down upon Edward, he shook his head, and sighed.

"Huh, not too good? No wonder the Colonel was worried." When Al did not respond, he laid a gloved hand upon the armor's shoulder, and gave it a little pat, before standing up again. "Let's get him settled, shall we? Keep an eye on him and keep him warm."

Havoc stuck a cigarette into his mouth as his hand came up with a lighter. Taking a deep drag, he stuck the lighter back into his pocket as he unwrapped the bundle of tent. Alphonse simply watched on, holding his brother, as Havoc went through the motions of erecting the tent.

"There. Done. Let's get him inside."

Alphonse nodded and brought Edward inside, setting him down gently. He stirred in his sleep, his arm twitching slightly, but did not awaken.

"What do we do now, Lieutenant?"

Havoc ducked his head into the tent before crawling in himself. He straightened slightly as he moved over to where Edward was lying. Seeing Edward's flushed face and obvious discomfiture, even in sleep, he scratched the back of his head and made a face.

"Aw sheesh. I'm not a doctor and I'm sure as hell not a babysitter." He sat back on his heels while he took another deep breath from his cigarette, no doubt trying to figure things out. "Well, some hot water please. Maybe some cool water too, while you're at it." Havoc felt for Ed's forehead, taking his hand back quickly as it became apparent that his forehead was practically burning. He winced. "Fever still up, huh? You might want to get better soon; the Colonel's seriously worried, and I haven't seen him this worried since… Hell, since Ishbal. He's really a good guy."

"Havoc-san. Here." Alphonse crawled in, a basin of water in each hand. He passed them over to Havoc before retreating to a corner. The touch of his cold metal would probably just make things worse. "Brother..."

_"Mother! Al's really hot and he says he's tired and he wants you to come!" A small boy, around six years old ran up to his mother panting. "Al says to come now."_

_"Thanks for coming to tell me Ed." The woman ruffled Ed's hair. "Let's go to Al now."_

_"Brother? Is mother here?" A young boy, around five years old with mousy brown hair was lying curled up on his bed._

_"Uh-huh. I brought her." Edward looked rather happy._

_"I'm very proud of you Ed. Al, you have a fever and you're sick. Ed, could you run over to the Rockbells and ask for some medicine?"_

_Their mother had moved over to sit on the bed. "My poor child, you'll feel better soon."_

"Brother..." Al shifted, lost in his memories. He remembered that time vividly for some reason. A flu bug had gone around the entire village, and Alphonse had been one of the first to catch it. Both Winry and Edward had later gotten sick as well. He chuckled slightly as he recalled their mother running back and forth trying to satisfy their constant demands.

Suddenly, a shuffling noise broke Al out of his reverie, and he gave a start, when he saw Edward's eyes wide upon, and struggling to sit up.

"Al?" Edward groaned as his head threatened to burst out of his skull, and he sighed, as he grappled to get up from his position on the ground.. "Where am I? What happened?"

"Brother! You're awake!"

Havoc started awake from his catnap at the boy's voice. He blinked, and yawned, before fully realizing that Edward was up already. The man sighed, and grinned at the younger alchemist, who only gave him a look of utter confusion.

"So Fullmetal, feeling better? You were a bit unwell so the Colonel ordered you to stay behind, and assigned me as your baby-sitter." Oops, that might not have been the smartest thing to say, considering Edward's ability to change almost anything said into a personal affront to his height.

"Baby-sit? Wha?" Edward looked utterly bewildered, and it didn't take very long before bewilderment turned into suspicion, and he gave Havoc a long look.

"Wait…are you calling me _short_?"

"No! He's not!" Al jumped in before Edward could launch himself at Havoc with a fury unmatched. "Uh… You fainted brother. And Colonel Mustang thought that it would be better to leave someone behind to make sure you got better. He also said that if you didn't get better in two days that I would have to carry you." Alphonse moved over slightly and began rummaging in one of the packs almost frantically.

"Are you hungry brother?"

"Thanks Al." Edward took the offered food gratefully, and gave his mouth over to eating, forgetting about Havoc's remark. The man gave a sigh of almost relief, and watched the interaction between the two brothers with interest. Al realized the lieutenant was simply sitting there, and watching, and he quickly offered a similarly wrapped package to him.

"Would you like something too, Lieutenant?" Havoc shook his head, but flashed Al a grateful grin."Eh, it's okay Alphonse, I've got my own," he replied, digging out an evidently military issue tin of canned meat as well as some hardened corn bread, tongue pushing cigarette to one side as he consumed his meal.

No one spoke, the silence hanging thick in the air. Edward was mentally beating himself up. _I was too...weak... I was...helpless...again..._

"Let's go." Edward brushed off the last few crumbs and straightened up, albeit shakily, and suited himself up in his jacket. "I'm fine now." _He had to be. He had to be strong enough to protect his brother. This should be child's play._

"But brother..." Alphonse cast a soul-eye over his brother warily as he protested. "You're not all better yet!"

"Hey Fullmetal, why don't you listen to your brother? It's obvious you're still unstable, and there's no harm in taking the extra rest. Don't push yourself too hard. You could hurt yourself." Havoc spoke languidly, although he secretly wished for Edward to change his mind. He was in no hurry to reach the front.

"Like you're one to talk," Edward grumbled as he drew his jacket around him and staggered outside. Havoc looked at Alphonse and shrugged. "Well, I suppose we can try. The snow has stopped and the wind has died down a bit," he commented to Al, as he gathered together his pitiful belongings and heading outside. Al sighed, knowing full well that if his brother set his mind on something, it was nigh impossible to deter him.

Sometimes, he still wished that he had stopped his brother that day though…

- - -

"You'll make yourself sick again, brother. Aren't you supposed to set an example for me?" When Edward didn't answer, and simply pushed open the tent flap, he shrugged instead, seeing that his words were having no effect on his stubborn brother, and began stuffing Edward's clothes that he had been using as blankets back into their packs, the second time today.

"Come _on_! Hurry up Alphonse, Havoc," came the impatient voice forcing itself in from outside, Edward stamping with emphasis on every word. Like Havoc had said, it had stopped snowing and things were much calmer and peaceable outside. The path that the others had taken was still visible, a wide swath of trampled snow imprinted with many indistinguishable footprints. Apart from the small disturbances that the Amestrian camp had made on the land, everything was a pure, crisp, blinding white, off of which sunlight was reflected, glaring into the child's eyes.

It caught him off guard as he stumbled again, eyes blinking as a disoriented feeling settled in. "Shit…" he growled, fighting against the dizziness that was threatening to take over his consciousness. He could feel himself falling, falling…as he somehow got his hands together, planning to do something that he never did, as he had to use his hands to support himself as his knees buckled, forcing him to the ground. Unconsciously, his hands clenched together, and his mind transmitted its twisted feelings through the palms of his hand and into the ground below as the land twisted. Shit…I am so in for it…was has last coherent thought as he slipped into darkness again.

Both occupants of the tent heard the thump as Edward's body fell limply into the snow, causing them to rush outside. Havoc's mouth hang agape as he regarded the unintentional transmutation that Edward had performed which had essentially laid waste to a field the size of Central Headquarters. Towers and pillars of snow and ice rose grotesquely from the barren ground, some partially distinguishable figures, others just twisted shapes. Despite the fact it was mostly abstract, Havoc felt his stomach twist just slightly. At least the tracks were still visible. Alphonse though, had eyes for nothing but his brother. He ran to him, and gathered him up in his arms.

"See brother! I told you not to push yourself! Look what happened now!" Although his steel body prevented it, the tears could be heard clearly in Alphonse's strangled voice.

"Stupid brother!"

Havoc sighed, turning his attention back to the pint-sized Alchemist who could do such damage even on the brink of unconsciousness, but was now once again settled in a state of fevered delirium.

"Let's get him back inside, Alphonse. We'll see in the morning."

By morning, Edward hadn't gotten any better. He drifted in and out of a delirious, fitful sleep while both Alphonse and Havoc looked on worried as they watched his small chest rise and fall in the slow rhythm of his breathing. They could stay for maybe another day, but the chances of Edward getting better by then were low. All they could do was wait and see...

By the end of the day, Edward still hadn't improved. Havoc had grown stiff and had gone "out for a walk to stretch his legs" and get a smoke meanwhile. Alphonse, who couldn't become stiff, sore, or tired sat nearby his brother watching him with the utmost care for any change in his condition, watching for any sign that he had taken a turn for the better—or for worse. At the moment though, Edward was still burning and mostly asleep. Occasionally his eyes would open and he would look around wildly before falling back into fevered dreams. Alphonse fervently hoped he would get better soon.

- - -

On a rise nearby, two figures were standing, contrasting sharply with their black clothes against the white monotony that was the landscape of the northern lands.

"Hey old hag, it looks like one of our 'human sacrifices' is in some trouble." One of them broke the silence, his voice grating harshly, yet sliding smoothly into the ears of any listeners.

"Such a pity Envy, he's confirmed too," the other replied, with a voice that was lustrously soft and…seductive.

"Shall I give them a hand, Lust?" Envy looked over at his companion. "We wouldn't want to lose the Fullmetal shrimp, would we? Father might not be so pleased…He seems to have taken an interest in the brat."

"If you want." Lust turned and walked the other way, holding one hand up to inspect her fingernails. "Be quick though. Father doesn't like to be kept waiting. And I don't think you'd want to miss this, Envy. Humans never learn…do they?"

"Heh. Humans are so foolish, never realizing that that idiot of Pride is simply manipulating them," Envy let the words fall as he walked off, allowing his taunt towards humans to hang in the air between them. Foolish, indeed.

"See you in a bit."

* * *

That's done! I'm still not certain about Havoc's character, so if anyone wants to correct him a bit, I'd love that. And as always, reviews are greeted with much enthusiasm!

Sony, signing off!


	3. Chapter 3: The first death

**A/N:** Ah...my sister pointed something out...Sonyme, in case any of you were wondering...hehe. And I greatly thank **culyerjade**, **NoZoMi17**, and **Stripe**, for reviewing. You got me through chapter three with a major headache :p I rushed this a bit, and I don't think my friend has read her email yet...so I MAY have overlooked something. And the /o/ inserted in the story indicates a section change  
**Disclaimer:** I wish I owned FMA. But I don't.

* * *

The flap of the tent opened. Al looked up towards the entrance. "Havoc-san..." Al stopped when he noticed the one at the door wasn't Havoc, but a guy with spiky green hair and an odd black miniskirt. "Wh-Who are you?" Al was surprised and slightly scared. There was someone else out here? 

"Aw, don't worry. I'm only here to help. After all, we can't let one of our precious "human sacrifices" die now can we?" Envy walked into the tent and went over to Ed. "So Fullmetal Shorty, don't die on us. Your life is very valuable you know." Ed subconsciously flailed one of his arms nearly catching Envy in the chin. "Don't call me short..." Ed grumbled.

"Looks like the little guy's still has some fight in him, huh?" Envy knelt by Ed. Al noticed a bright flash that quickly subsided. Ed's breathing settled down and he fell into a deep calm sleep. Al moved closer to Ed. "Nii-san!"

"He should be okay now. You should take better care of the little guy. He's quite talented you know. We can't afford to lose him." With that parting shot, Envy left Al in bewilderment.

When Havoc came back five minutes later Al was still staring in disbelief at the entrance of the tent. "Ah. Havoc-san. You're back. Did you see anyone out there?"

"Is Ed better? And I thought I saw a beautiful woman out there but...why'd you ask?"

"Ah. Nothing. Ed's a lot better though." It was true. Whatever that guy had done, it had made Ed better...strange, it looked like alchemy.

"Really? That's great! We should move out soon now that he's better." Havoc had gone over to Ed to verify the truth of what Al had said.

"Ummm...shouldn't we wait until he's completely fine?" Al sounded worried.

"You're right. No reason to hurry towards death." Havoc sighed before leaning back. "Might as well get a rest before we go."

/o/

"Mmmm...urgh. Wh-what happened?" Ed sat up wincing. "I feel like I got dropped on my head and run over."

"You're awake! STUPID NII-SAN! I TOLD YOU NOT TO PUSH YOURSELF!" Al grabbed Ed and hugged him.

"Ah-ow. That hurts Al." Al hastily released his brother.

"Sorry nii-san. Havoc-san said to start moving as soon as you woke up though. He's sleeping right now."

"No I'm not." Havoc had woken up and was grumbling. "I guess we're off now then."

Within minutes, the three were on their way again. Nearby, a lone figure stood snickering, watching their progress. "Don't die, o-chibi-san."

"Reporting to Colonel Mustang, sir!" Havoc snapped to attention in Mustang's tent. "Edward Elric, Fullmetal Alchemist, is recovered and ready for combat."

"At ease." Mustang sat down and gestured for Havoc to do the same. Havoc promptly lit another of his cigarettes.

"I'm worried about him though. He's still a kid." Havoc looked over at the Colonel. "I left him with Alphonse in your tent, sir, by the way."

"Right. He's not our main concern though. The Drachmans have been steadily advancing and pushing us back. The Fuhrer has ordered to send all available State Alchemists over soon. Now see this map? If we send a flank to this side and one over there, with a large group in the centre and the State Alchemists in the rear providing cover and some in the flanks, we should be able to advance a bit..." Mustang gestured and circled marks he had made on his map, detailing his plan when Hawkeye interrupted.

"Excuse me, sir. Edward-kun is here to see you." Hawkeye lifted the flap to reveal Ed standing outside, not so patiently waiting.

"Ah, Fullmetal, I didn't see you behind my desk." Mustang raised an eyebrow at the short alchemist.

"WHO'S TOO SHORT THAT YOU CAN'T FIND HIM BEHIND ALL YOUR PAPERS?" Ed exploded before calming down and plunking himself down on a seat. "I came to ask when we were..."

"Being sent to fight?" Mustang finished his question for him. "Tomorrow most likely."

"What's the plan?" Ed walked over to the map. "Hmm...just one thing. You're trying to surround them? Exactly how?"

"I should be asking you." Mustang quirked an eyebrow.

"A wall? I don't know. It would be rather far from where I would be wouldn't it?" Ed sounded unsure. "I haven't done anything from that distance before."

Ed and Mustang continued discussing the plans for the attack for quite some time. Hawkeye sighed. It sounded like they were planning a massacre. This was Ed's first war, it would be the first person he saw someone killed, and it would be the first time he killed. She sighed again. This was complete madness, sending children to war. Maybe Al would help Ed if...She was thinking too far ahead. Maybe she was over-worrying, and Ed would be able to take things calmly enough...If only...

"First Lieutenant Hawkeye. Please inform Major Armstrong that our plans for tomorrow have been prepared and all things are ready to go." Ed and Mustang had evidently reached a conclusion that was most likely Ed's idea in majority judging from the smirk on his face and Mustang's annoyed expression.

"Yes sir." Hawkeye saluted before turning to leave the tent.

"Oh, and ask him to come too." Mustang added.

"Yes sir." Hawkeye left.

"I'll be going to Colonel, Al might be worried." Ed stood up and stretched. "We're leaving tomorrow morning?"

"Yes, Fullmetal." Mustang sighed and stretched. Tomorrow would be a stressful day...

/o/

"Colonel sir! Under attack from east and west! Gaining control on north flank, south side is ours!" Sergeant Fuery gave his report in short bursts. They had been ambushed within minutes of arriving on the front lines and partially surrounded. The initial casualty rate had been higher for the Amestrians but they were steadily regaining ground. The State Alchemists assured that. Ed was sending spikes up into wherever the Drachmans were, from a distance. His only focus and point of attention was to create as many obstacles as possible for the advancing troops, until it had settled into a sort of rhythm. His little bubble was about to be shattered. A grenade flew past the front lines into the near centre of the Amestrians' position. It barely missed Ed, but the man next to him wasn't so lucky. It exploded in his face, blowing his head off. The impact knocked Ed off his feet and sprayed him with blood. His eyes widened in horror. Ed staggered backwards, unable to take

his eyes off the gruesome sight before him. Where the man's head had once been, there was now nothing but a bloody stump.

"N-no!" Ed was clearly shaken and looked wildly around for escape before realising that people were dying around him, left and right. His concentration had been broken, and what his mind was taking in was too much for the young boy. Ed had just been brutally thrust into the realities of war, and human foolishness. Ed turned and retched onto the ground. "No..no...NO!" Ed's cries attracted the attention of Mustang who temporarily left of charring large sections of Drachman troops to scramble over to where the boy was, trying to block out all sound and sight of what was happening around him. Mustang noticed the headless body nearby, and it didn't take long to figure out what was wrong with Ed.

"Fullmetal! Get a hold of yourself!" Mustang picked Ed up by the front of his uniform, forcing him to stand. "Look at me Edward. If you don't wake up, you're going to get yourself killed. You'll leave your little brother alone. Understand that Fullmetal?" Mustang had seen what had happened to other soldiers who had frozen in the midst of battle. He hoped Fullmetal would have enough sense to avoid their fate.

"Al..." Ed nodded and jerked away from Mustang's grasp before bursting into tears. "I..can't...I can't kill people...I..can't do it..." Ed's face was frozen in a mix of terror and horror.

"Listen Fullmetal, here, it's a kill or be killed situation. You're a dog of the military and you've been ordered to kill. Do your job." Mustang looked down harshly at the boy who looked out of place of the dying men, explosions, and gunshots of the battlefield.

Ed nodded mutely before going back to impaling Drachman soldiers. "Al...That's right. I became a dog of the military to get Al his body back. I can't stop now..." Ed's eyes became dull and lifeless as he tried to numb himself to the scene around him, as he tried to do his duty as a dog of the military, if only for his brother.

/o/

As the hours wore on, the Amestrian military managed to regain the ground they had lost as well as a bit more. The Drachmans were sustaining heavy casualties, and unable to hold ground, their failed ambush was called off as they hastily retreated. Unfortunately for them, the Amestrian military, heavily supported by the State Alchemists, used the opportunity to fire (literally in the case of Roy Mustang) at their unprotected backs, causing Drachman casualties to rise even further. The day had been a total failure for the Drachmans, and celebrations were in order for the Amestrian soldiers. The Drachmans would have no choice but to sit back and lick their wounds and regroup before a second attack. This would give the Amestrians time to launch their own affront, but it would be what the Drachmans were expecting...What to do? Mustang thoughtfully tapped a pen against the table. Ed was still to shaken up to help with that genius mind of his. He had retreated into his tent with Al and had refused to come out, even when Mustang had ordered him. Mustang sighed. Ed hadn't taken seeing someone killed so gruesomely very well. He had his own problems that did not include the kid alchemist though. Colonel Mustang went back to tapping the map with his pen, while he attempted to formulate a new plan.

/o/

Nearby, in a smaller tent, on a bed, Edward Elric was curled up into a ball. He had cried himself to sleep, and now nightmares were plaguing his dreams. Ed was ten years old again, running up to his house carrying a basket of fruit and vegetables. His little brother was tagging along behind him. Ed opened the door, his ten year old self expecting to see his mother well and alive, his thirteen year old self dreading the sight of his mother collapsed on the floor. Instead, a soldier with his head blown off was lying on the floor, blood splattered around him. The body moved and Ed turned to look at it, unable to turn away. The headless body turned into the monster they had created when they had tried to transmute their mother. "Why didn't you make me perfect, Edward? Look what you did..." Edward writhed in his sleep. "No...stop it...I'm sorry mother..."

Al looked at his brother. During the battle, Ed had ordered him to stay behind, so Al had no idea what had happened. When Ed came back, he looked horrible, and he was covered in blood. "Not mine" Ed had assured him, before he had walked over to the bed and curled up. Al was worried. Ed hadn't undressed or washed, and the blood was still on his face. Al wondered what had happened. He looked at his brother again before deciding he would be okay by himself for a while, before Al left the tent to visit the Colonel.

"Umm...Colonel?" Al had entered, but stopped when he saw the Colonel at his table.

Mustang looked up at Al's voice. "Hello Alphonse-kun. How's your brother?"

"I left him sleeping...Umm...about nii-san, what happened? When he came back he was covered in blood." Al was curious.

Mustang tapped his pen against his chin as he debated what to tell Ed's brother. He had a feeling that if he said too much Ed might not be so pleased. "Ah, your brother saw some...disturbing things. He's fine. Go back to your brother now. You should be there when he wakes up." _He'll be counting on it..._

"I suppose so Mustang-san. I'll be going then." Al left.

In the background, Hawkeye sighed. Things had turned out as she thought after all.

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Yay! Chapter three is done! Chapter four will definitely take longer to do. I'm insanely busy for the next few days, but I'll try. And once again, reviews please! They make me feel nice and warm and fuzzy inside and motivate me to actually work on this fic instead of my other little oneshots. On another note, you could read the oneshot I posted a while ago...titled **It's not that bad being short**  



	4. Chapter 4: Steel Bonds

**A/N:** Sorry it took so long... I was away the whole day for two weeks so I couldn't get much time to write this. The next one might take ridiculously long too unless I get it done in two days. So if chp 5 isn't up in two days it's not for 2 weeks.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA...I wish I did...

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Ed opened his eyes and stared at the wall of the tent for a while, before he remembered where he was. He sat up with some difficulty, kicking off the blankets before the chill of winter bit in and he pulled the blankets back around him." Al?" Ed looked around the room searching for his younger brother. However, no suit of armour graced his sight. "Al?" Ed swung himself but of bed and threw on his red jacket before he rushed out. "Al?" Ed was Worried. Where could Al have gotten to? 

Al was coming back from visiting Mustang when he saw his brother's small form looking for him. "Ah, nii-san, here I am!" Al ran over.

"Al! Where'd you go?" Ed admonished his little brother with the undertones of "I was worried."

"Ah! No where..." Al stammered a bit. If Ed knew he had gone to the Colonel...

"Well, let's go back." Ed turned his back towards Al and headed back to the tent.

Ed sat on the edge of his bed, his head buried in a book. Al sat quietly in a corner while he regarded his older brother. Al wondered what exactly it was that Ed had seen for him to have had -those- nightmares again. "It must have been something horrible. Genius has a price I guess." Al thought.

"Umm, nii-san?" Ed looked up at his brother's voice.

"What is it Al?" Al shifted uncomfortably, squirming. If he had an expression on at the moment, he would have appeared extremely nervous and slightly embarrassed.

"I, uh, went to see Colonel Mustang...and he said you...err...saw some...disturbing things..." Al trailed off, stammering, leaving the unspoken questions of: What happened? and What can I do? in the air.

"Why the hell did you go see that bastard?" Ed muttered darkly. "What happened is none of his business. Or yours. You're not a damn dog, you wouldn't understand." Ed snapped irritably at his younger brother before burying his head back in his book.

"What happened is none of Mustang's business" he had said, but Ed couldn't help but blame the Colonel for what had happened. That bastard had made him kill others, and somehow it must have been his fault that the soldier next to him had died. Ed clenched his automail fist. Damn it, and that bastard's using Al and mine's secret as leverage, no, he's using Al as leverage as well. "I'm taking a walk." Ed stood up suddenly, as he let the book he had been reading before he had been interrupted fall to the ground.

"Would you like me to go with you nii-san?" Al looked at his brother. Ed wasn't acting normal.

"No. I'm going alone." Ed half stomped, half ran, out of the tent, only bothering to grab his red jacket, leaving Al behind to stare at his retreating back. Al knew better than to go after him. When they were little, when Ed ran off by himself, Al had followed him once, and they had fought. Al had won, but he knew not to follow Ed after that. Al sighed and realised that he had half stood to follow Ed. He sighed again heavily as he sat back down. He supposed that there wasn't much trouble Ed could get himself into anyways...

Ed kicked the snow as he trudged through the Amestrian establishment of various tents aimlessly. He knew as well as anyone that it was unlikely the Drachmans would be attacking anytime soon, and the Drachmans knew that too. Ed supposed that there

was one small mercy he could be thankful for. They wouldn't be surprised. But Ed knew with growing dread that it most likely meant the brutal slaughter that he himself had set the plan for would be occurring soon. Ed hadn't had any intentions to go anywhere in particular, but his feet had taken him to in front of the Colonel's tent, no doubt following the direction his mind had gone. Ed had no wish to see the man though, not after...what had happened. Ed sighed heavily. He was tempted to go in and tell that damned-to-hell smirking man that he wouldn't help--just try and make him, before he remembered why he was here in this god-forsaken place at all. Ed sighed again and turned his steps away from the Colonel and towards other, perhaps quieter places where he could think away from all the commotion of soldiers cleaning guns, stocking ammunition, orders being shouted back and forth..."Fullmetal." Ed turned suddenly at the sound of his name coming from the one person he didn't want to see.

Ed grimaced unpleasantly inwardly, but made no show of any emotion, careful to keep his face blank, and replied in a flat, toneless voice. "What is it?" It was more of a statement than a question though really, an automatic response that allowed his true feelings, that he would much rather punch the man in the face than be civil towards him, to stay hidden. Under any other circumstances, Ed would have exploded, screaming at the older man, to vent his feelings, but Ed knew that it wouldn't be a good idea here. He supposed that he blamed Mustang for this mess in any case, that was what the childish side of him said, but a smaller voice, one that spoke of logic beyond his years told him that if anyone had gotten himself into that mess, it was himself. Ed clenched his fist suddenly, and his impassive blank face showed a flicker of hate. No. It was that bastard's fault. If he hadn't left them..."Fullmetal." Ed snapped back to the present as he heard his name again. The tone was odd but Ed couldn't quite place it. "Come in. We need to talk." It was only when Ed brushed his hair away from his eyes before following Mustang that he realised tears had been threatening to overflow. "Dammit." It was muttered, barely coherent, but Ed was pissed at himself. Part of him wanted to run away from it all, go somewhere far away, maybe as far as Xing and never come back, but he knew that his only choice was to stay and grab the bear by the throat. Ed sighed again, before he gave himself a moment to pull together before he ducked his head and slipped in.

"What was that about, Fullmetal?" Mustang was leaning back on his chair in a casual, relaxed manner, his fingers interlaced, elbows resting on the arms of the chair. The man knew what would get to the child most, and instead of the usual smirk that was plastered over his face, it had been replaced by a serious expression.

"What was what about?" Ed started fidgeting as he looked down, the index finger of his right hand idly scratching the thumb.

"Don't give me that. What are you doing wandering outside alone, in no way dressed for the weather, and leaving Al alone?"

Mustang knew how to make someone just uncomfortable enough. Some part of him felt guilty for making the young boy squirm, but that was quickly squashed. "Well?"

"None of your business," Ed muttered darkly, looking up just long enough to shoot a charged glare at the dark haired man.

"Then why did I find you outside the door, staring at it as if you wanted to come in, then leaving without a word? Ah, maybe you did come in but I just didn't notice you. Or you thought I would be with you -short-ly." Mustang allowed a smirk to flicker across his expression for the barest amount of time, a small show of inner satisfaction.

"WHO DID YOU SAY WAS SO SHORT THAT YOU WOULDN'T NOTICE IF THEY WALKED RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU?" Ed finally allowed himself to lose the control that he had been exerting over himself to not react to anything the Colonel said. Unknown to Ed, Mustang had seen through his "keep quiet and shut up" act, and had timed that to elicit any reaction out of him. "You should go to hell you bastard. I was just taking a walk for god's sake."

"Oh? And when did you start believing in God?" Mustang raised an eyebrow and regarded the blond-haired boy. He had seen others like him, people who shut themselves within themselves until they became nothing but empty shells. That would have been his fate if Hughes hadn't dragged him out.

Ed stomped over to stand right in front of the Colonel before he leaned down on the table and looked the man straight in the eye. "Look. Don't you have a war to organise? Why don't you get back to your work before the First Lieutenant comes and puts a bullet in your head for you?" Ed turned and stomped out of the tent. Mustang sighed. Getting the Fullmetal Alchemist to a state in which he was reasonably rational and could perhaps lend his brain as well was his work at the moment.

Ed sat on the ground some distance away. A sharp wind started blowing, causing Ed to bring his knees up to his chest and huddle into his jacket. His jacket wasn't much help or protection against the knife-like wind though. His mind wandered back to his blow-up in Mustang's command center. "Damn that bastard..." At the moment, just the memory of that moment pissed him off. In his head, he continued totalling all the things that Mustang had caused until he had made himself quite upset. "Damn it!" Ed was pissed and he could feel his eyes being wet again. "Damn it all! Especially that bastard..." Everything became too much for him to hold in, and in a spectacular moment he would never himself forget, his small body started shaking, and then Edward buried his face in has hands and cried.

"Mother..." Ed remembered the day that they had gotten the notice that Winry's parents had died. That time, his mother had somehow comforted them all. How he wished she was here now...although if she was still alive, he wouldn't have been here in the first place, instead, he would have been helping around the house maybe, getting in trouble and fights with Al, researching and learning more alchemy...When Ed thought of what could have been, he just couldn't take it. Ed broke down in dry heaving sobs.

Unknown to him, his show of emotion hadn't gone unseen. Hawkeye had seen an extremely irate Ed stomp out of the Colonel's tent and had found out that the man had perhaps gone a bit far. Normally, her professional exterior wouldn't have her own feelings to dictate her actions, but she had a soft spot for the Elric brothers. She had been more than a little worried about the boy, and had gone off to look for him. When she finally found him some distance away from everything, he was crying. She was taken aback. She supposed that if Al had his body, she could imagine him crying, but Ed? The image she was looking at was one that she would have thought would never be; Ed's body was wracked with sobs, his knees pulled up to his chest, his face buried in his knees, as if he were trying to escape from it all. Hawkeye suddenly followed some maternal instinct that prompted her to walk up to the young boy and hug him to her. Ed looked up in surprise, his golden eyes wet with tears. He grew silent for a moment, before he looked away from Hawkeye and stared ahead. "It should have been me," Ed stated flatly. Hawkeye said nothing, she prompted the boy to continue. Sometimes it was better to just let everything out at once. "Why? Why do we have to kill?" For a moment, Ed was just any other thirteen year old that wished life was simple and that adults knew all the answers. Hawkeye stayed silent. "Why is it that people have to die for some person they've never met, and most likely never will? Why do people kill others they don't even know? It's not right. What do these people get who die here? What's the Equivalent Exchange? What do they get in return for all they give?" Ed looked up at Hawkeye beseechingly, his eyes begging her to give him an answer, an answer that would somehow make things right, maybe somehow even set things back. Ed was just another kid looking up to the adults. Hawkeye wished she could make things right. She supposed that it wasn't fair for the boy after all he had gone through, but all she could do was try and comfort him, not that there was much she could do.

After a few moments of silence, Hawkeye replied. "Pride and honour. Pride in serving for your country, and honour to die protecting it. To die a beautiful death." At times like these, there were only the textbook answers, even though she realised how unsatisfactory they were.

"Pride? Wasn't it said that "Pride comes before a fall"? What is pride anyways? Don't people say that it is one of the seven deadly sins? One of the flaws of humans? And what use is honour if you're dead? What use is pride if you're dead? Why? Is human life so worthless that even these things are worth the exchange? Or is it because those who die for these things have worthless lives? How is it Equivalent Exchange?" Ed lapsed into silence. Hawkeye thought before giving her reply.

"Perhaps that is their purpose in life," Hawkeye said slowly.

"Purpose? Is it their purpose to die?" Ed sounded almost incredulous.

"No. To protect their ideals." Hawkeye knew that well.

Ed stayed silent a while before replying. "Why do you kill? Why are you in the military?" he said at last.

Hawkeye was surprised. She remembered a time four years ago when a little girl asked her the same question. "There is someone I must protect."

"And what if that person is not worth protecting?"

"That is for me to decide."

The two sat in silence for some time, each mulling over their own thoughts. Ed dwelled on what Hawkeye had said. "Al..." He had to protect Al at all costs. "I'm a...horrible older brother." Ed stared at the ground. "I let him get hurt. It was my fault, he didn't want to do it, and now he's the one who paid the price for my stupidity. He probably blames me for what happens..." Ed trailed off before suddenly standing and walking away without another word. Hawkeye noticed that his eyes were lit with new determination.

The flap to the tent opened and Al looked up. "Nii-san!" Ed walked in, smiling, as he took off his jacket and dried it off.

"You're back!"

"Ehehe, sorry about back there Al." Ed stretched. "Ahhh, I'm starving..."

"I'll go get some food for you!" Al stood up quickly and headed out. Both of them acted like nothing had happened and that Ed hadn't stormed out. Ed sank on to the bed with a heavy sigh as he lay back down and closed his eyes. "Thanks Al..."

Ed thought back on what had happened. He couldn't believe himself. "The Lieutenant probably thinks I'm such a sap now..." Ed silently berated himself for losing control of himself for just a moment. What if someone else had seen? What would they think if they saw a State Alchemist...crying? His silent personal thoughts were interrupted when a soldier walked in and saluted. Ed sat up straight in surprise. "What is it?"

"Major Elric, sir. A message from Colonel Mustang. Please report immediately." The soldier stood at attention.

Ed rubbed his temples. 'What the hell does he want now' he thought. "Tell him I'm coming. Tell him he's a damn bastard too." The soldier started in surprise at the second part of Ed's speech. At that moment, Al had just come in. Ever the tactical one, he had at least the sense to realize that what Ed had said might not sound to good to the rest of the military.

"Ah, nii-san didn't mean that..."

"Actually Al, I--" Ed tried to press his point when Al cut him off.

"No he didn't. He...uh, didn't say that, ok?" Al could sound really sweet when he wanted to.

"Yes sir!" The soldier supposed that if this armoured man was the Fullmetal Alchemist's brother, he was pretty important and it would be best not to say anything to the contrary. Although he did hope he could ask to not have to play messenger between the Flame and Fullmetal Alchemist again, in case he heard something potentially dangerous...

"According to plan, we are moving out on the offensive at 5 tomorrow. I want you here at 4." Mustang gave a glance at Ed. It would be interesting how he took it. Ed knew exactly what would happen tomorrow, and what the result and death tolls would probably be. In fact, he probably knew what would happen soon the best of anyone. However, according to military protocol, the Colonel had presented the plan to Major Elric. Ed knew he had no choice. he should have been able to kill all these other people without hesitation. After all, what value did their lives have in contrast to Al's? Yet, he still hesitated, hesitated on choosing the only choice available to him. It was some time before he spoke.

"Yes sir," he said quietly, almost a whisper.

"Good. Remember, here at 4. Al stays." Mustang felt relieved, yet troubled. He had been worried that Ed might resist, but he had agreed. However, it wasn't like Ed. Normally, he would have screamed and protested about how he was a bastard and how it was all Mustang's fault followed by his refusal before he might have possibly given in.

Ed wished there was some other way. But he knew that there couldn't be. He knew, had done the calculations. If this would help end the war sooner, than less people would die. And to him, the people who would die had worthless lives. Or so the logic ran. Ed nodded and turned to leave. He hesitated just before the exit. Mustang noticed. "Something wrong, Fullmetal?"

Ed turned back slowly, looking Mustang straight in the eye. "Why do you kill, Colonel?"

"Why? It's simple. "So I don't die." The reason is always simple, Fullmetal." Mustang let the words slip off his tongue easily, as if they were so familiar as one's name. They were familiar though. How many times he had repeated the words of Hughes. How many times he said it as an incantation when he felt like he would go crazy. 'So I don't die. The reason is simple. I kill so I don't die...' was what he had said. Sometimes, those times still haunted him.

Ed dropped his gaze and left. He knew he had much to do to prepare for tomorrow's massacre.

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Ok. I can't believe I actually wrote the last two chapters...if they suck, it's because a certain someone didn't read them over for me...when you read this you know who you are :p 

Anyways, more reviews please, they're very encouraging...


	5. Chapter 5: Hunt

**A/N:** Well, Suigin Kaiba was the only one who reviewed to my last chapter...but it was a review, so I decided to stop being anoyed and post this chapter. So, thank you Suigin Kaiba!

**Disclaimer:** Sony doesn't own FMA. If she did, she'd have lost it by now in any case. By "it" I mean Ed... :ducks and hides from Ed's tantrum:

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The next morning, before the day had brought even the first hints of dawn, Ed was woken by Al's voice as a cold hand on his shoulder shook him awake. "Mmmgh?" Ed sat up somewhat groggily, before trying to burrow deeper into the blankets, away from the chill. 

"Nii-san!" Al grabbed the blankets and exposed Ed's shivering body.

"…So heartless, Al…" Ed mumbled some more about how he needed his sleep--before the events of the pervious day came to mind. "Oh crap…" Ed sat bolt up right. "Oh crap," he repeated.

"Colonel Mustang said that if you didn't hurry, he'd send First Lt. Hawkeye over. Please hurry nii-san!" Al didn't want the trigger-happy lieutenant anywhere near him or his brother any more than Ed wanted it, although their reasons differed slightly.

"Shit. Damn that bastard." Despite his complaining, Ed was already out of bed. While he wiggled his feet into his boots, his hands were busy fumbling with the fastener of his shirt. Al stood to the side as he tried to find ways to help, despite the fact that he wasn't having much success. Ed, meanwhile, had started stomping around looking for his jackets, all the while muttering obscenities about the Colonel. Before the sky had lightened another shade, Ed was preparing to charge out the door. Before he had quite made it out, he was stopped by an apologetic sound that was a cross between a cough and a whimper. Ed turned at the sound of Al's voice. Hesitantly, AL held out his hand. There was something in it, half hidden. Ed slowly reached out to grab it, but recoiled when his hand hit cold metal. The shape…"A gun?" It was half to himself, half a question, and half a statement. AL shifted uncomfortably, as he muttered something about the colonel and military protocol.

Ed sighed and took the 'tool' from Al. "That lazy bastard,' he muttered. Under it all, he was worried. He was worried that he might actually be forced into a situation in which he would need the gun. The very thought repulsed him and filled him with disgust. It also brought the sharp realization that he was expected to kill, that he would have to kill. Ed sighed again and stared at the object in his hand before tucking it in his belt under his jacket. "Thanks Al, I guess."

"Sorry nii-san," Al wasn't quite certain what it was he was apologizing for, but it felt right. He hesitated before continuing. "Umm, am I coming with you?"

Ed turned away sharply, his face changing to an odd shade. "No," Ed snapped at Al sharply. Al was surprised. Lately, meaning the past two years, Ed hadn't used that tone often. He was more often screaming his head off or the same head was buried in books and research. Ed continued awkwardly. "I mean…" Ed's face turned an awkward scarlet colour for a moment before suddenly darkening. "There's no need for you to put yourself in danger. Don't lower yourself to my rank," here, Ed let out a nervous chuckle. "Heh, anyways, one person sitting on this bed of thorns is enough. Besides, the _Colonel_ said you shouldn't." Ed's eyes burned holes into Al's armoured face, burning with stubbornness and the determination to keep his little brother safe.

Al didn't want to leave it at that though. "But nii-san—" Ed cut Al off.

"No is no." Ed's voice rose in volume. "Please Al, do this for me," he said as he returned to his more reasonable self (koff).

AL sighed. He knew when the battle had been lost and when to retreat. Ed shifted awkwardly. "I'll be going now then…" His voice was uncertain, hesitant. He quickly ducked his head, as if ashamed or embarrassed, and turned to leave.

"Please come back alive nii-san!" Al shouted after his brother.

Ed turned and flashed a grin. "Don't worry, AL!" I have something to see through and I intend on doing just that! I can't die yet."

0o0o0o0

"Yo, Colonel." Ed called out idly to the older man.

"You're late, Fullmetal." Mustang wore an expression that matched the serious nature of the moment. "It's all yours," he said while gesturing.

Ed sighed. He wished he had thought of the consequences when he had come up with this addle brained plan. Perhaps he could at least take some comfort in that what he was about to do now wasn't entirely his idea. He walked forward as he surveyed the distances. He had a feeling that the next few hours would be very tiring. He would be busy, (causing the deaths of others, he thought), and alchemy wasn't something to take lightly, especially if involved transmuting large amounts. He took a deep breath and clapped his hands together with a sharp crack and placed them on the ground. A bright blue light flashed. There were few visible changes, which reassured Ed that things had most likely gone right. Not that there had been much chance of them going wrong.

Perhaps the only ones that noticed were the squadron leaders who had been waiting for the entrances of the newly created tunnels to open by their feet. The military burst to life, quietly. Havoc was leading a group down the tunnel nearest to Ed. "See you soon, boss!" he said as he waved at the young alchemist. Meanwhile, soldiers scampered down into the darkness loaded with various weapons and ammunition. The tunnels (hopefully) extended well into no-mans land and were fairly close to the enemy lines. Among the soldiers, there were at least three state Alchemists per tunnel. There was one situated at either end of the group, one in the middle, and perhaps a few scattered in between. Ed sighed and stood back with his hands in his pockets as he surveyed his work. "Good job, Fullmetal." Ed turned to look behind him. Colonel Mustang regarded him for a moment, before turning and looking away. "When we receive the signal that our covert troops have been well situated, the remainder of us will move out. You might want to get some breakfast meanwhile." Ed nodded and turned to leave. "Oh, and Fullmetal, your red jacket makes you a very easy target to hit. You certainly won't be if you remove it."

Ed bristled. "WHOAREYOUCALLINGSOSMALLTHATNOONECANAIMATHIM?"

Mustang chuckled to himself and waved behind him. "Later, Fullmetal."

Ed fumed a bit more before deciding the best course of action was probably to take the Bastard Colonel's advice and get something to eat. Fifteen minutes later, he was standing outside the mess tent, observing the going-ons of soldiers bustling to and fro carrying ammunition and various weapons. The sun had now risen just enough to shed light on the various bundles, revealing hand grenades, muskets, bayonets, hand guns, ammunition clips, and large tanks in the distance. The assault was about to begin. Ed turned when he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder. He turned quickly, surprised, and looked into Mustang's unusually serious face. _Was that… a touch of sadness?_ Ed grumbled. "What do you want, bastard?"

The older man winced inwardly at Ed's address, but as usual, didn't respond to it. His face settled into its normal smirk. "Report to your unit within five minutes, unless of course, the posting was too _high_ up for you to see…" With that, the Colonel walked away, leaving a very, very, angry Ed behind.

_Damn that bastard_, Ed thought. He was probably just rubbing it in that Ed just _happened_ to be in the Colonel's unit. That was obviously expected, but Ed could just imagine the next line that would come from his mouth. "Oh, Fullmetal, you seem to be _under_ me again." Ed bristled at the thought before trooping off to their unit's station. All Mustang's usual subordinates, except for Hawkeye, were present as well as perhaps, a hundred or so other troops. Ed slouched in behind Havoc.

"Havoc." Ed tapped the man on the shoulder to get his attention. "Where's Hawkeye?"

Havoc turned (and looked down). "Hey chief. _First Lieutenant_ Hawkeye went ahead to her sniper post. And Ed, the Colonel told me to remind you to 'remember your ranks, Major Elric'."

Ed groaned inwardly. He hated all this Major, Colonel, Sergeant stuff. He hated being called Major, mostly because it reminded him all too sharply of his ties to the military. Not that it made a difference here, he supposed. His thoughts were interrupted by the Colonel's voice, which Ed tuned out. He knew what he was going to say, anyways, and if there was something important, he could just ask Havoc. However, he was surprised when a very loud "Major Elric!" was bellowed. Ed half-saluted and gulped. For the first time ever, it seemed like the Colonel was mad…at him. "I just said that those," Mustang gestured at a small group standing to the side, "are the ones who are assigned to protect you. Move out, now."

For a moment, Ed stood dumbfounded. He had opened his mouth and was about to protest, when he was stopped by a sharp kick from Havoc. "Yes, sir" he muttered. Inside, he was fuming. _This_ had _not_ been a part of the plan. They would probably treat him as a kid or something. "Fullmetal." Ed looked up at his name, to see Havoc. "Listen, in effect, you are their commanding officer, and you should command respect, not give them the impression that you're some lit..er…kid." Ed twitched but held his tongue. He had a feeling Havoc was about to say "little brat," but he was too pissed at the moment to complain. Ed nodded resignedly and moved off to meet his men.

"Major Elric." He had some ten men assigned to him, and all ten snapped to attention and saluted when he came near.

"At ease." The words sounded awkward on his tongue, but he had heard it said enough times to be relatively used to it. The men instantly relaxed. Ed sighed. He had a feeling he was going to get a major headache if he was continuously called 'Major Elric.' "Err…" Ed started awkwardly. "It'd be fine to just call me Ed you know…or even Fullmetal is better…"

His men started. Actually, they had been surprised that their commander was such a short kid, but having a Major request to not be called one was, perhaps, even more surprising, considering most of the higher-ups were promotion-seeking fools. In fact, the Colonel was definitely one of those, minus perhaps, the 'fool' part. "Yes, sir!" As if on cue, they all saluted together.

Ed sighed…this was going to be a long day. "Come on, let's get in position." "Yes, sir!" Ed sighed again. He supposed that he could only ask so much, but at lease he could know their names. "Well, names please?" Ed asked without turning around. "Corporal Anthony Taft! Corporal Andrew Fillmore! Corporal Hugh Ilsley! Sergeant Charles Davis! Sergeant Lomer Aylesworth! Sergeant Antoine Guthrie! Master Sergeant Lionel Garson! Master Sergeant Luis Turner! Warrant Officer John Lewis!" Ed counted in his head… "And?" One was missing. "Ah! Private Vic Cotler, Major Elric sir!" Ed sighed… obviously someone who hadn't been listening. He would have turned around and started fleecing the poor boy down had it not been that they had just caught up with the rest of Mustang's group. The front began firing and launching grenades at the Drachmans. They would be their cover fire.

Three…two…one… "Up and over, men!" The order came. Mustang hid his worry with one last snide remark. "Hey Fullmetal, don't die. The paperwork that would cause would be taller than you." Ed was unable to do anything but follow up and over. "Whatever. Like I'd die before you, bastard Colonel."

Both sides were under heavy fire as the two opposing countries charged to meet. The loss and bloodshed was immeasurable on both sides. Men were mowed down as if they were paper figures in a bloody blaze. This was true on the Drachman side, on account of Mustang's flame alchemy. Ed did nothing for the moment, except stay near the back with his group to stay hopefully safe. It was just as well perhaps, for the sight of men dying like flies left and right was doing nothing for his stomach, or his state of mind. All he could do was focus in front of him. Suddenly, it looked like the Amestrians were being pushed back, which they were. However, before they knew it, the Drachmans found large stone walls rising behind them, and between them. Large stone walls with spikes. It was a matter of moments before the tide turned, as the bulk of the Amestrian military stationed in the north emerged from various holes in the ground, cutting down those in Drachman uniform. The Drachmans were suddenly cornered, and clearly about to lose. They hoped they would receive help from their sniper base, but unknown to them, it was a lost hope. Near the Drachman-Amestrian border was a large fortress, which the Drachmans had used to their great advantage. However, in preparation for the battle, the Amestrians had stormed the fortress, taking hold of it, and were using it for their own purposes. Their hope was rekindled for a moment when people began firing from the fortress, but it dropped just as suddenly, when it was their _own_ men that dropped dead. Meanwhile, in the battle, it had become a bloody one-on-one combat zone with a few exceptions. Mustang was next to useless in hand-to-hand, and had formed a small circle, back to back, with Havoc, Breda, and Fuery, and were picking off Drachman soldiers. There were also snipers stationed around the edges of the battle, who picked off those who could pose a threat. There was one sniper for each State Alchemist in battle. Another eye to keep those who were important human weapons safe.

Ed, meanwhile, had been dragged into the rhythm and mindless fighting of the battle. Unwilling to expose his automail, he had "borrowed" a couple of military swords and transmuted two smaller hand-blades that were extremely solid. So far, he hadn't killed anyone yet, slashing where he needed to clear a path forward, to where he had noticed Mustang's group having some trouble. It had become somewhat of a rhythm. Dash, duck, slash someone's legs, see someone coming at him from one side, turn, uppercut, all the time aiming for non-lethal areas. Dash, duck, slash, dash, duck slash, oblivious to the cries of pain and fear, the screams of death, and the sound of bullets being fired from their guns, the sounds of metal clashing on metal. However, Ed soon became engaged in a one-on-one combat he had not bargained for, and his own fierce battle began. Unfortunately for him, he had left his men far behind, and they themselves were occupied with staying alive, the same task which now befell to him.

The man he was facing was large and heavyset, yet amazingly nimble and quick. Luckily for Ed, he was quick too, or else he would have been severed in half by a lighting-fast swing of the man's large sword. Damn, this guy was good. Ed ducked and wove around to try and avoid the man's sword techniques. "But not as good as Al!" Ed quickly dove the other way before aiming a kick with his left leg at the man's stomach before flipping and hooking one of the man's legs. Surprised, he blocked the kick with his sword and stepped backwards, thereby making himself unbalanced. Ed took the chance to swing out and cut the man across his stomach. It was Ed's turn to be surprised as the man simply stood up in response, and flung a small knife at him, narrowly missing his neck and just nicking his shoulder. "Damn…" It was obvious that this guy was a skilled fighter, and he had no intention to give up. Before he had chance to react, Ed had effectively severed his leg muscles. He watched with grim satisfaction as the man crashed to the ground, but turned around just before the man gripped his wounds in pain.

However, Ed had another nasty surprise in for him. Before he could even register what was happening, a blade had wounded his right leg. He whipped around and quickly transmuted a handful of blood-stained snow into a knife of extremely sharp and dense ice and flung it at his attacker, who easily dodged. His attacker grinned manically, and flung himself at Ed. Ed tried to move, but his reaction time was slowed as his wounded leg dragged. He found himself pinned, face down.

"You might have beat my older brother, but you're going to die here."

It hit Ed hard. He was going to die. He turned over, and saw the wicked point of the knife coming down, preparing to cut his life's blood.

_

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_Wheee! Cliffy! Mwhahahaha...now, time to become the evil demanding writer...I want at least ONE review, for me to get off my lazy a and type up chapter six. I think I'll introduce my new charachter(s) then. Also...currently working on a written version of the manga, so you might want to check that out. Only chp 1 so far though.Yep. Sony, signing off! 


	6. Chapter 6: Kill

**A/N:** Ha! Take that evil music theory! Chapter six is out! Oh, and Monster? Feel special. You'll understand when you read...(pay attention to the names) And sorry if Ed's little comeback from the almost dead doesn't come up to your expectations. 

**Disclaimer:** Don't own FMA...sigh...

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In one fluid motion, the man brought the knife down, the blade aiming straight for Ed's neck. In the same moment, fuelled by adrenaline, Ed kicked to the side and rolled, at the same time transmuting his right arm into a blade and swinging it up in self-defence. Within seconds, Ed was covered in blood, and a heavy weight fell on him. 

His blade had cut across the man's neck, nearly decapitating him. The man's face was frozen in a mask of surprise and horror; in death, the assassin becoming the victim.. The supposedly fatal thrust had done no more than to graze Ed's neck, and hadn't hit any vital points.

Ed realised what he had just done. He had just killed someone. He had just killed another human being. Though realisation had sunk in, the shock would not be registered for several hours, which perhaps, was a blessing, as the fighting had not yet ended. Ed struggled out from under the man, his own wounds flowing freely.

"Major Elric!" Ed somehow heard his name above the din of the battlefield. Judging from voice, it was Private Cotler. He hadn't bothered remembering the soldeirs' faces, and so had no idea what the private looked like. Looking around, he saw a soldier fighting his way towards him, most likely Private Cotler. He looked rather young, maybe around eighteen, brown hair, brown eyes, slight of build. Despite Ed's annoyance at being called "Major" yet again, he was glad to see the man. "Major Elric, sir, are you all right?" Cotler had made it over to the boy. Somehow, Major Elric reminded him of his younger brother.

Ed gritted his teeth and sat up, but berated himself for his stupidity as he felt a spasm of pain run along his shoulder. Cotler noticed it, and tried to help. Ed wasn't too worried about his shoulder, as it was only a small wound, but his wounded leg was more troublesome. It didn't look like it would cause many problems, but he was losing plenty of blood from it. He called to Cotler: "Bandages. Now."

Every soldier was supposed to carry a small belt pouch (not that Ed did) that contained a few essential supplies which included some water, a small knife, and luckily for Ed, some bandages. Utilizing the kit, Cotler moved to bandage Ed's leg, but was surprised as Ed took it from him. Placing it on his leg, he clapped his hands together and the wound was tightly bandaged.

As Ed touched up on the bandaging, Cotler noticed that Ed's gloves were ripped, and his right hand, and arm for that matter, didn't seem right. After all, how could it seem right when there was a metal blade coming out from it? Being a good soldier, Cotler smartly refrained from commenting, although he did stare. Ed followed the private's gaze and realised that his blood stained blade was still sticking out of his automail. He quickly returned it to its normal state. For some reason, he remembered the first time he had done that. It had been soon after he had gained normal use of his limbs, and the first time he had tried alchemy since _that_ time. He had clapped his hands together and closing his eyes in concentration, had drawn the blade from his arm—and had gotten smacked over the head with a wrench as a reward. Winry had demanded for him to put his automail right again, and he had, but since then it had become his favourite weapon.

Cotler was staring wide-eyed at what he had just seen. _Not human…_ were his first thoughts. "Automail." Cotler looked up at the sound of Ed's voice. He was confused before realising that Ed was referring to his arm. "Err…Major Elric, sir? We need to get you somewhere safe."

Ed groaned. "Could you please _stop_ calling me that? Edward, or Fullmetal is just fine." Suddenly, Ed's face became contorted with pain, and he slipped into unconsciousness.

Hughes had been nearby, and out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that Ed had obviously been wounded, perhaps very badly, judging from the amount of blood on him, when he noticed him go unconscious. His opponent noticed this and used the opportunity to lunge forward, but Hughes dispatched him with a quick flick of the wrist, and before the man knew what was happening, a knife was lodged in his skull. Hughes pulled the small knife out before rushing over to where Ed was.

A young man was evidently trying to shake him awake, probably one of the men that Mustang would have assigned to Ed. "Stop that!" Hughes ordered, as he made it over to the pair. "Keep us covered please," Hughes had no idea who the man was, but judging from his epaulettes, he was a Private. "It'd be nice if no one attacked us, Private."

"Yes sir!" Cotler moved slightly away from Ed and began picking off Drachman soldiers. Hughes would have chuckled had it not been for the gravity of the situation. This kid could give Hawkeye a run for her money.

Hughes turned back to Ed. His breathing seemed to be slightly constricted, but his pulse was fine. Examining his wounds, none of them seemed too bad. However, the skin around where his neck had been injured had turned a nasty shade of green and purple. It seemed like that whatever weapon had cut him there had been poisoned. "Damn it…" What to do now was the main question. He was no medic, and he had no idea what to do in situations like these. Suddenly, a bugle call sounded, evidently it called retreat, because any Drachman soldiers still alive had turned tail and were running for all they were worth. Evidently, they hadn't learned their lesson from their last spectacular defeat, because once again, they were being picked off like flies from guns, flames, and weapons. Hughes sighed. At least Ed wasn't seeing this.

That was when Mustang noticed that Ed seemed to be out of action. He left off flaming the enemy, and rushed over. "Hughes! What's wrong with him?" called Mustang, worried. At least Ed seemed alive.

"Think it was poison." Hughes tried to remove the blood from his glasses, but only succeeded in staining it more.

"Shit." Mustang's one word answer displayed exactly his thoughts. "Let's get him back."

0o0o0o0

The morning had been another amazing victory for the Amestrian side. When the walls had come up, the Drachmans found themselves surrounded, and most likely dead. They had tried to fight their way out, and had failed. From that one battle, only seventeen Drachman soldiers had survived. Eighty-seven percent of all casualties had been on their side. Never before had a battle been so lopsidedly won. The battlefield was strewn with the brown uniforms of the Drachmans, with some blue scattered around. The ground was stained with mostly Drachman blood. In that one battle, the Amestrians had gained some half a kilometre of ground, going past where even the Drachman front lines had once been. Yes, it had been a total success, stemming from the mind of a thirteen year old child who had simply wanted to piss off his commanding officer by being better than him, a thirteen year old child who was now lying in a hospital bed, combating a bout of poison.

When Hughes and Mustang had brought Ed to the field hospital, his face had turned pale and his breathing was laboured. Al had been worried about Ed and was about to go see if he could help him when he had noticed that the battle had obviously been finished, and spotted the Colonel and Lt. Colonel carrying his brother. Now, the doctors had managed to extract the poison, and although he wasn't completely clean, Ed was now in a calm sleep. Al stayed with his brother the whole time, waiting for him to wake up. The men who had been assigned to Ed were standing outside, and they were extremely worried. How could something have gone wrong on their first time?

Ed woke and sat up, only to see the worried faces of Mustang, Hughes, and Al around his bed. "Where am I?" His mouth tasted like ashes and his head hurt something terrible. Judging from his surroundings, he figured he was in the field hospital, although he was fairly certain that none of his wounds had been severe enough to land him in it.

"Nii-san! You're awake!" Al hugged his brother before remembering that he would probably hurt him.

"Uh, yeah. So what happened?" Ed gingerly rubbed his shoulder where it hurt from Al's well-meaning hug.

"Poison, Fullmetal. It seems like the barbarians like to play dirty." Mustang had a smirk playing around his lips. "Although I'm surprised anyone managed to hit you at all."

"WHO'S SO SMALL THAT HE'S HARDER TO HIT THAN A MOVING TARGET?" Ed blew up, and instantly regretted it. His outburst left him out of breath. "So what else happened? How did I get here?"

Hughes smirked. "Well, soon after you were out, the Drachmans retreated, and Roy here carried you back…"

Ed stared in disbelief. "Wh-wha-what? He _carried_ me back?" He was at a loss for words. Carried back like some child…Aaah, it made him mad.

The door to the field hospital opened, and Ed stared. Mustang stared too. "Yo, Roy!" The newcomer was a woman in military uniform just a few years younger than Mustang. She seemed to have come from Xing, judging from her looks. Behind this woman, trailed another one, also wearing a uniform, who didn't look like she exactly belonged there, also seemingly from Xing. Ed was staring because there were very few girls in the military. Mustang, on the other hand, was looking very apprehensive. "It seems like the shorty has grown," said the first woman, addressing Mustang, as she sat down on Ed's bed.

Ed was still staring in disbelief, and barely believing his ears. "The Colonel? Shorty?"

Mustang covered his eyes with one hand. "Fullmetal, this is my cousin, Iris Mustang, and her friend, Sora Xiao." Sora was obviously the second girl, who nodded acknowledgement at her name.

"H-hello…" Ed managed to stammer out. "Ah, my name's Edward Elric and this is my brother, Alphonse. Pl-pleased to meat you." He still hadn't quite overcome the shock of seeing two more females in the military, not to mention he was still battling the after-effects of poison. He remembered what he had just heard. "Wait, did you call the Colonel 'Shorty'!"

Mustang groaned, he knew what was coming. " Huh, Colonel, not bad. Oh, didn't he tell you? He's three years older than me but wasn't even as tall when we were younger."

Ed definitely couldn't believe his ears. The Colonel, short? Ed burst out laughing. "And—you call _me_ short!" he finally managed to gasp out after he had got his fit under control, although that didn't last long when he saw that Mustang's normally cool complexion had turned an interesting shade of pink.

Suddenly, he noticed that Sora had taken a square piece of silk and had placed it on Ed's flesh arm. "Huh, wh-?" Before he had a chance to finish, a faint glow emitted from where the cloth was, and Ed felt—different, in a good way. Sora looked up at him and explained. "I let the poison to become unharmful." As she began to fold up the small square of silk to replace in her bag, Edward noticed an interesting design on it.

"Alchemy?" he asked. It looked distinctively like a transmutation circle, althouh it was unlike any he had ever seen. And he had seen a lot.

Sora noticed him looking at the piece of cloth strangely, so she showed it to him. It was square, and on it was embroidered a circle with a five pointed star inscribed in it. "A formula circle, used to balance the five elements."

This left Ed confused. "But there are only four…"

Sora shook her head as she folded the cloth and replaced it where she had taken it from. "No, there are five. Fire, Water, Wood, Gold, and Earth. Xing alchemy is based on those five elements, although I believe your alchemy can be based more on Fire, Water, Air, and Earth."

While Sora and Ed had been having their (quiet) conversation, Iris and Mustang had began to argue, very loudly, while Hughes and Al had evidently escaped outside.

"And you're one to talk! Who's the one who left at fourteen to join the Military? Of another country no less?" Iris was standing, screaming at Mustang.

"Well look at what you're doing now!" Edward was, well, stunned. He had never seen the Colonel lose his cool. Well, he had never known that he had been short…and he had never known that there were five elements…Today seemed to be a day of revelations.

"Shut up! Did you expect me to stay there?" Mustang retorted, rather loudly. Sora just sighed, she was obviously used to the two arguing.

A nurse hurried over. "Excuse me, sir, ma'am, if you could please…"

Mustang turned on the charm. "Of course, we'll just step outside. Fullmetal, if you're feeling better, you can go."

Iris half-stomped outside with Mustang following. Sora just sighed again, and was about to help Ed out of bed, when Ed's eyes opened wide in shock. The sight of his blood stained arm and clothes had just brought back unpleasant memories. "I…killed someone…" It didn't take long for Sora to figure out that he had made his first kill. She had been well trained in combat, and had never felt the impact of having taken life for the first time, but she knew others who seemed to have similar problems with killing. Sora just shrugged and handed him a clean shirt and pants. When Ed made no move to take them, Sora shrugged again and just left them beside him.

Ed, meantime, was lost in his own turbulent thoughts. He had killed another _human_ being. He had taken another human life. He was a murderer. Did the man he had killed have family? Had he killed a father, a son, a brother, a husband? Had he left another child without a proper family? A brother…he was doing this for Al, these people should mean nothing to him compared to Al. He had known he would have to take life when he had become a dog of the military. He had known he would be sent to war, with the soul purpose of being a 'human weapon.' He had made the resolve that he would do anything it took to get Al's body back. So why was he having qualms now?

But there was nothing he could do for the man he had killed. He didn't know his name, where he lived, hell, he didn't even remember what he looked like. And it wasn't like he could bring him back to life. He had learned that the hard way. One shouldn't mess with the flow of life, the "rules" of the universe. He knew all this, thinking logically, yet some other part of him rebelled against it all, some part of him complaining that none of it was right, it wasn't just—but war wasn't right either. Ed was taken out of his thoughts by a gentle tap on his shoulder. Sora was smiling gently at him, holding clean clothes. "Ah, thanks."

"You're welcome." Sora walked outside. Some how, he felt an aura of gentleness from her, dainty, like that of a noble lady. Most definitely not military material. Sighing, Ed clapped his hands and removed the blood from his jacket and cleaned the blood off of himself, removing any traces of what he had done, before changing his clothes and stepping outside. The world could sure be cruel sometimes.

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W00t! Done! Thanks to the record amount of reviews for this chapter (6) I worked on this overtime.Sadly, due to circumstances out of my control, I won't be able to get Chp 7 out for maybe, a week or more...oh well, I'll try my best. :starts looking around for cookies and wonders if any of them are Ed shaped: 

-Sony, Signing out!


	7. Chapter 7: Of Death and Thereof

**Well, here it is, 2(?) weeks late. Sorry! I couldn't write until one week after...and the betaing took a while...meh. Anyways, enjoy, I guess, and thanks to my beta: Nainne/Monster. Yep. Also, thanks to my reviewers, Cuylerjade especially, but all of you for having stuck through 6 chapters so far.  
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**Disclaimer: I don't own FMA, sadly...as well, flashblacks belong to chapters 60/61 and the gaiden His Battlefield Once More. I simply trans-wrote them.  
**

Mustang berated himself for losing his cool at his cousin—well, she was the only one who _could_ make him that annoyed and always had been. The only one who had gotten even close was Maes, and even then, had never been able to get under his skin that much. His greatly annoyed side was one that was turned only towards those who was close to, and Iris was no exception. After all, he was supposed to be the 'biggest bastard ever' according to Fullmetal, due to his habit of never losing his cool and pissing Ed of to no end, and he had no wish to lose his reputation. Although since he had blown off in front of other people…oh well, he was reasonably certain that what had happened inside the field hospital would stay inside. No doubt any there would stay quiet or risk getting painfully singed.

He wasn't surprised to see Iris and Sora here, after all, he had noticed their names on the list of soldiers who were to be posted to the North, but he had desperately hoped that he wouldn't have had to seen them. Pity he had forgotten that while he might make an effort to avoid them, Iris would probably make more of one to find him.

Meanwhile, the object of the Colonel's thoughts was following him to no doubt somewhere more private. Iris hadn't really expected a nicer welcome, seeing as the two hadn't been on the best of turns the last time they had seen each other, but she had still hoped that they wouldn't have had to start arguing straight off… Although that was her fault, even though she would never admit it. Her pride would have been hurt immeasurably. But still, shouldn't he have been even slightly happy to see his cousin and best friend after thirteen years? She felt that he owed her something, after he upped and left without even a 'good-bye' despite their closeness that could have rivalled even that of a bond between siblings. She kicked a pebble in frustration as she followed Roy silently to wherever he was going.

---

Meanwhile, Ed was doing much the same thing as he walked towards his tent. Sora had left right before him, probably off to join that other woman, Iris or something like that, and that bastard Colonel. Right now, he was trying to force himself into some semblance of normalcy for Al. There was no reason that he would have to know that he had…Ed let that thought trail off in his head as he noticed Al sitting quietly, lost in his thoughts, and hastened his steps towards him.

---

Mustang sat down behind his field desk and faced his cousin. Despite his emotionless expression, and his outwards annoyance towards her appearance, he still was slightly pleased at seeing her. However, his reputation wasn't to be trifled with. "What is it, Iris?" he asked. Iris was surprised at how tired he sounded.

"Why did you leave? Why?" Iris asked, walking over to his desk and placing her hands on it.

Roy sighed, he knew this was coming. Didn't mean he had to like it though. Instead, he opted to avoid her question instead, and deflect with one of his own. "Why are you here then, why did you leave? It couldn't have been just to find me now could it?" he asked with a smirk.

Iris flushed, and didn't answer, which Mustang noted, and realised that Iris probably also had some reason that she didn't quite want to reveal just yet.

It was true that Iris had her own reasons why she had left her country, and that she had no wish to tell them just yet, but she did want to get his reason out. Oh well, nothing for it then. "Well, I did want to see how you had grown and if you had found a wife…I'm certain plenty of our friends back home would love to…" Iris trailed off, leaving the rest of her statement to Mustang's imagination.

It was Mustang's turn to flush. Although this time, he was determined not to let her get the better of him. What to do, what to do…Mentally, he pulled out all available weapons in his arsenal. This one? no, it wouldn't do…how about this one? Nah…maybe this…or this…Perhaps this one? Nope…or maybe… "The Colonel is busy. Lieutenant, you are dismissed." Mustang smirked. There was one good thing about having a higher rank, one more reason to become Fuhrer.

Iris fumed. It really sucked that once the Colonel pulled rank on her, she couldn't do anything against it. Acting on some unknown impulse, maybe because it just felt like the right thing to do, she went around and hugged him. "I missed you Roy," she said before pulling away and leaving a very, very stunned Mustang behind.

Unless his memory failed him, Iris had never hugged anyone voluntarily. And she didn't like it when other people hugged her either. But he had just been… "Aaah, this doesn't make sense."

He decided that the best way to deal with his cousin for now was to just forget about her for a while. Although he had to admit, she had taken his mind off what had transpired a few hours earlier. No, he was not going to go to that train of thought. He had decided in Ishbal that he would rise to the top and protect the entire country, and stop these meaningless wars. Perhaps Hughes had called it basic geometric progression and a child's ideals, but as he had also said, 'Sounds interesting, I'll give it a shot.' He and Hughes had made their decision then, and they weren't going to go back on it. Which also meant that he wasn't allowed to second-guess himself either. What he really needed was a drink, or coffee, or both. Mustang sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. Pity it wasn't exactly all that attainable out here.

- - -

"Nii-san!" Al called out to his brother as he waved. Ed smiled to the best of his abilities as he ran to meet him, hiding his true feelings rather well. "Are you okay?" Al still sounded a bit worried over what had been Ed's condition only a short while earlier. He didn't know what had happened; neither Mustang nor Hughes had told him, and he had been too busy worrying over Ed to have really pursued the matter, and he hadn't really had time to talk to Ed since Sora and Iris had interrupted them. Also, Ed wasn't doing a very good job at seeming completely fine, and it was definitely showing through.

"Stop worrying Al, I'm fine!" For Ed, the response came automatically, although for his current situation, it felt a bit forced. Thoughts of what he had done still ran through his head, leaving him still rather shaken. Images flashed through his head rapidly; the first attack, the other man lunging at him, being pinned down, the site of the dead body… Ed ducked through the flap of their tent, nearly tripping over his own feet in the process, before flopping down on the bed. Al followed his older brother inside, as Ed sat up before he kicked his boots off roughly, the boots flying over to the other end of the tent. He couldn't care less about the state of the room or if it was mess or not, and instead, he immediately collapsed onto the bed, mumbling something under his breath. Something about a certain Bastard Colonel and his extremely weird cousins.

Sitting back up, he peeled off his outer layers of his cloak and jacket, leaving him in his white undershirt. Sighing, he removed his gloves, sparing a glance for his right hand. He really was thankful that they had somehow ended up with a room of their own. It would have been rather hard to explain the automail, and perhaps risk revealing Al's (and Ed's) secret. Meanwhile, Al hovered nearby, worried. But when he realized that Ed wasn't going to say any more, he sighed, and sat down, curling up as he set about to make himself more comfortable.

Since he really didn't feel like talking at the moment, Ed decided that the best way to avoid doing so, and avoid any thoughts for the moment, was to bury himself in a book, which he promptly did. Burrowing into the blankets, Ed dug out a book and lost himself in its pages. Seeing that his brother was most likely to be occupied for a few hours, Al followed suit and did the same.

- - -

"Hey, Ed!" Ed and Al looked up towards the sound of the voice and found Hughes standing there with a cheerful smile, casually saluting the two of them with two fingers, another hand behind his back. . "It's way past dinner time."

Ed scratched his head while flipping open his watch with one hand. The watch gleamed in the dim light as it opened, reflecting the light, flashing silver.

"Oops…I lost track of the time again." He groaned, slapping his forehead with his right hand, "Someone had better saved something for me!" He hurridly stuck his boots on, pausing a moment to pick up his gloves, and was about to dash out, leaving Hughes and Al behind, when Hughes restrained him.

"There wouldn't have been any left," Ed growled to match his stomach, "but I brought you some…" He brought out the sandwich which he had hidden behind him. He was about to speak again, but Hughes was cut off as Ed grabbed the sandwich and began to ravenously devour it, crumbs flying everywhere messily. Hughes sighed and sat down on a crate opposite of Ed and Al, shaking his head at Ed's antics. Really, the boy needed to work on his patience. Why, he hadn't even shown them his picture of his dear, cute, wonderful, delightful Elysia-chan!

"Well, I guess if you can eat like that, you're probably fine now. Although, you did have me really worried…" Hughes trailed off as he removed his glasses and cleaned them, mentally reliving for a moment the time he spent in Ishbal, and remembering the many comrades he had lost 'gloriously' dying needlessly in reckless battles.

Al once again wondered what had happened in the time span when he hadn't been with his brother. "Um, Hughes-san, what ha-" However, whatever he had been about to say was interrupted by Ed as he stood up and stretched, brushing the last few crumbs off from around his mouth.

"Thanks a lot Hughes! I think I'll go outside for a while, coming Al?" Ed looked back over his shoulder as he slipped on his cloak. His face had slipped into an almost emotionless mask, which disturbed Al. Perhaps Ed had interrupted him on purpose…

"Ah, I think I'll stay here nii-san, you go on." Al gestured for Ed to leave without him.

Ed wasn't too surprised that Al would prefer to stay behind; the fact that Ed's younger brother was a suit of armour wasn't exactly public knowledge. Ed just shrugged as he went out. "Suit yourself then."

As soon as Ed was probably out of earshot, Al tried asking the same question again. However, he was once again cut off, this time by Hughes. "I think that he'll tell you when he's ready. Have a good night then, Alphonse." When Hughes too left, Al settled in with a book for another few hours. He would have opted to take a nap, if it were possible, but since it were out of the question, decided to simply lose himself in a world of words, not dreams, instead.

Tonight, the battlefield was quiet. The Drachmans had retreated far enough, no doubt to regroup and perhaps recruit fresh troops, and the Amestrians felt that there was no reason to waste artillery and ammunition firing on perhaps already long gone, or dead, troops. The only sounds were the soft mutterings of the discussions of various groups of soldiers. Ed scanned the darkness with his eyes, resting on one small group of familiar faces. He sat down heavily between Havoc and Sora, and was passed a cup of warm alcohol by Breda.

"Ugh, no thanks," he said, pushing it away, "water would be much nicer."

Unlike the other small groups situated around the encampment, everyone seemed to be lost in their own thoughts, quietly drinking, most likely beer or some other alcohol-filled drink. Ed was surprised to see that Mustang's face displayed depression. He would have thought that the heartless bastard only had the emotional capacity to piss other people off. Next to him, Iris just sat quietly, looking worried, while next to Iris, Sora's expression was unreadable. Havoc, Breda, Fuery, and Hawkeye were much the same; either looking sad, or keeping their faces blank. Ed supposed that each of them had worries of them own, possibly stemming from the stressful day that had just passed.

"Major Edward Elric, Fullmetal Alchemist, was it?" Iris broke the silence, in an attempt to start some conversation. She looked up as she said this flicking her bangs out of her eyes. The dim light struck her face into a sharp relief, with her cheekbones and nose especially highlited.

Ed looked up from his cup, which he had been using to warm his flesh hand in some surprise. "Uh, yeah..."

"So how old are you?" To Iris, he looked like he was maybe 10 or so, but she decided it would be best just to ask. Back in her own country, she would have just asked what sign he was born under, but she had learned that they didn't use the zodiac in Amestris. The first time she had asked someone in Amestris, a fellow soldier, she had gotten extremely blank and confused looks, and on further enquiry, found that it was because no such thing existed.

"Thirteen," Ed said, as he glared at the Colonel, who looked up, extremely amused at Iris's question, and even more so at what would probably happen with Iris's inability to keep some of her thoughts to herself. Her habit of spouting off whatever she was thinking had caused some problems, which both Mustang and Sora had always quickly tried to diplomatically cover up.

True to form, this time was no exception. "Really? You look around ten…" Iris trailed off, as everyone else braced for an explosion—that never came. Frankly, Ed was just too tired. Tired enough that he ignored the slight on his height, and instead just fell silent, although a vein did twitch visibly.

"So…you killed someone for the first time today?" Ed looked up, eyes wide, clearly startled. His hand unconsciously gripped the cup's handle as he tensed unconsciously. "First time's always hardest, I guess. I don't know though, I never really paid attention in class -- that was Sora's job. But I do remember the first lesson we ever had. 'Take life only when ordered. When you do, take it with pride.'"

Everyone looked horrified at the way she was discussing death so lightly. Except for Sora, although no one seemed to have noticed, apart from Ed. Sora seemed to simply maintain her expressionless mask. For someone to not react…Ed shuddered at what Sora and Iris had probably experienced to make them so indifferent to death. Despite that these were the same ideals that Roy had grown up around, he had never been able to accept them, and had got into plenty of trouble from his teachers. He had had them drilled into his brain though. 'An enemy's life is not worth your own. Killing them is akin to destroying an insect.' 'Emotions weaken, they are burdens that are meant to be destroyed.' Even though that one had rarely been followed. 'Kill, so that the honour of your enemy comes upon your own head.' His former clan had been very aggressive and had focused mainly on training for war despite that the country was kept together, even if it was tense and through the Emperor alone. The upper ranks of the national army consisted mainly of members of the Xue clan and mercenaries from Xing also often originated from there. Apart from being an aggressive clan, their territory was rather small, and was situated on the north-eastern border of Xing. They were also very populous and crowded, and many of them travelled around Xing as well as to other countries, some as far as Creta. Mustang shook himself out of his thoughts of his past life, and realised that Iris had been talking about Xing.

"…takes a wife from each clan. Really, he's the only one holding the country together. The prince of the Xue clan is Sora's cousin, so she was always the teacher's pet. Not to mention, she was actually good at school, good enough that she got to learn alchemy, or Rentanjutsu as we called it."

Here, Ed perked up. "Alchemy?" he asked, clearly curious. "Did the Colonel study it there too?"

Hawkeye, Roy, and Iris all made to speak, although it was the normally quiet Sora that replied. "No, his alchemy is purely the same as yours. Our alchemy is mostly used only for medical and research purposes, although our clan made an exception, and decided to adapt it to a more _useful_ form." Ed was surprised at the slightly bitter tone of Sora's voice. From her demeanor, and the way she carried herself, he would have supposed that she was the typical kind, nice person that didn't hold grudges. But then again, she _was_ a woman in the military. She continued. "Very few were, or are, taught the art of our strain of Alchemy however, since few have the talent for it, and it is not widely needed. And it would be better if our particular brand of Rentanjutsu is not widely spread." The last sentence was spoken with such vehemence that even Mustang was taken back, although, he supposed that it may have been that his childhood companions had grown up in the years they had been apart. The group lapsed into silence for a while.

"Ah, so, why did you leave your country?" Fuery made an attempt to break the uncomfortable silence. The young specialist didn't enjoy seeing people unhappy, and the silence was especially oppressive and depressing.

"Well, I really couldn't stand that stuffy place anymore, and being married and leading nice peaceful lives really isn't that great, and our army doesn't take women, so I came here, and Sora just did too, I guess." Iris smirked, strangely reminiscent of Mustang. "Oh, and of course I _had_ to see if shorty here had grown up…"

Ed broke down in laughter, and even Hawkeye couldn't resist a small smile, and if it weren't for that Hawkeye had a fully loaded gun very nearby, various people would probably find themselves slightly singed. No, scratch that. Incredibly singed.

"But still, I wouldn't have imagined that something like this would have started this fast. And I really hoped I wouldn't have to kill someone so soon. It's hard to forget a face that you've killed…"

"Killed…Aren't alchemists supposed to do good for the people? Why are we using it to kill instead?" Ed looked haunted, and far older than his apparent years, his eyes betraying for a moment his inner anguish.

Iris just shrugged. "Well, if it's efficient, I suppose it's just as good a way to end a life as any other…"

For Mustang, it somehow sounded strangely familiar…Ishbal…

_Since the time when Hawkeye passed on her father's research to Mustang, it was the first time they had met, and it was on the battlefield that they made their reunion. "Why, why did it have to turn out this way?" Hawkeye asked, referring to that they had both joined the military to make lives better for people._

"'_Why'? Because it is the job of a State Alchemist. Why are soldier, who ought to protect citizens, killing them instead? Because that is the task given us. Am I wrong?" Kimbley had been nearby during their conversation._

"_Are you saying that we should accept it, accept this brutal scene?" Mustang asked._

"_You can't accept it as your job? Everyone else?" Kimbley asked the other soldiers around them. "Well, if we could, we wouldn't be talking about these things," one replied_

"_That's right… for example…the young lady there. 'I'm doing this unwillingly' You're wearing that kind of face.'_

_Hawkeye looked down sadly. "That's…right. Killing isn't enjoyable…"_

"_Is that so?" Kimbley stared at Hawkeye. "When you defeat your opponent, can you definitely say that you don't think, 'I hit him! All right!' and hold pride in your skill, that you don't have even a little moment when you feel a sense of achievement in your work? Miss sniper." Hawkeye's eyes opened wide in shock, fear, and horror that perhaps he was right._

_Mustang grabbed Kimbley by the collar "Don't say any more than that!" He yelled, strangely riled by his words. _

"_In my view, you are the ones that I can't understand," Kimbley said calmly. "To seek for justice in a special place like a battlefield is what's strange. Is it heretical to kill with Alchemy? Is it better to kill with a gun? Or is it that you were prepared to kill one or two, but can't bear killing thousands? When you wore this of your own will, weren't you already prepared?" Kimbley pointed to his uniform. "If you don't like it, you shouldn't have worn it in the first place. You moved forward onto this path on your own, why are you playing the victim now? If you're going to take pity on yourself, don't kill people in the first place. Don't aver your eyes from death. Look forward. Look at the people you're killing in the face. And don't forget them. Don't forget. Don't forget. They won't forget you either." _

"Fullmetal, you stepped onto this path on your own. When you became one of our dogs, weren't you already prepared? You knew that you would have to kill, didn't you?" Mustang's voice held confidence, like the veteran soldier he was supposed to be, but inside, he felt horrible for admitting that what Kimbley had said back then was correct. Hawkeye too, started at his words, surprised at the familiarity of them, for the memories of Ishbal were still too deeply engrained in her mind. Havoc, Breda, and Fuery exchanged glances, each wondering why the others had become so…depressing.

Ed looked down. He knew that what had been said was true, and he had reasoned it out with himself already during the time when he had been fitted with automail, but that didn't mean that he had fully accepted it, no, even partially accepted it. He knew that the lives he would be forced to take should mean nothing to him, if they were in the way of Al getting his body back, but he just couldn't swallow that feeling of having someone die at your hands. Besides, his hands were now stained with the blood of others. "I'll take all this into myself, and stay normal around Al!" Ed's non-sequiter surprised everyone, although it brought a half-smile to Mustang's lips. Hughes had said the same thing. It had been early in the extermination campaign and Hughes had just received a letter from Gracia.

"_Once the war ends and everything calms down, I'm thinking of proposing marriage. I'll invite you to the wedding too, so be prepared!" Hughes laughed. "So you'll embrace the woman you love with those hands filthy with blood." Mustang had said. Hughes face had immediately darkened, as he grabbed Mustang's collar and pulled him up to face him. "You have a problem with that! I figured it out while I was here. To own a house with the woman you love and live normally is a happiness that can exist anywhere. But it's the greatest happiness! I'll do anything in order to have that happiness! I'll survive! What happened here…I'll take in what I've done here alone and smile when I'm in front of her! I'll make her happy…!" _

It had been when Hughes had come to call Mustang to 'work.' He had been feeling a bit insensitive and depressed then, and hadn't really cared for Hughes's feelings. Thinking back, Ed's approach to this was really all rather similar to that of Hughes.

And because of that, he found a reason to smile. To smile at the irony of war.

- - -

It was late now, and most everyone had fallen silent, the only sounds were those of people quietly drinking their warm drinks. Ed was getting rather tired, and he wasn't the only one. Iris's eyelids had been drooping lower and lower, and now, she was leaning on her cousin's shoulder, asleep. Mustang half-smiled. She had been like that when they were younger too. He gently shook her awake, and she groggily opened her eyes. "I think it's time you went back now," he whispered.

Iris nodded, too tired to protest, and Sora got up to leave as well, giving the others a glance and a nod of acknowledgement. Nearby, many others began to leave for their own sleeping quarters as well. Edward stood up and left as well, heading straight for bed. The talk had left him feeling very drained, as tired as if he had run around the entire country of Amestris. Soon after, Mustang, Hawkeye, Breda, Havoc, and Fuery all drifted to their respective 'lodgings' and Hughes had been asleep for a while already.

Mustang lay awake for quite some time, unable to sleep. He had been congratulated repeatedly on 'his' brilliant plan. He smiled bitterly, knowing that it had been mostly Ed's idea, and probably had been fashioned just to spite him. Suddenly, a movement at the entrance to his private tent caught his eye, and he pulled on his gloves, ready to snap. The flap opened to reveal a figure. "Roy?" Mustang relaxed, it was only Iris. "Are you asleep?"

"No, come in." Mustang sat up as Iris walked in and sat down next to him. Iris looked…old, he noted, the same way that he sometimes caught Ed looking like in his unguarded moments. Iris, looking up, noticed Mustang looking at her, and he quickly looked away in embarrassment. "So, what was it that you wanted?" he asked softly, not wanting to disturb others that may be asleep.

"I…couldn't sleep, so I was wondering…" Iris trailed off. When they were younger, she would often crawl into bed with him when she had trouble sleeping. Sometimes, they would talk for a while, but often, the steady, calm breathing of her older cousin was enough to send her to dreamland.

Mustang smiled, and nodded. Iris crawled into his sleeping bag and snuggled up to him. Within minutes, they were both asleep. The last coherent thought that Mustang had was that Iris being there maybe wasn't such a bad thing after all.

**Long chapter! ****Ok, give me some feedback on this, and I MAY get chp 8 done sooner. No promises though (promises are simply made to be broken), and it's a pretty boring chapter (until the end I think). And by the time you finish Chapter 8, you'll figure I don't do conversations well...**

**-Sony, Signing off!  
**

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	8. Chapter 8: Family

**A/N:** W00t! The line breaks are working again. Anyways, if you've been waiting forever...it's not my fault! Seriously! My beta took up most of the time...ok, maybe it was my fault...expect 2 one-shots and a revamping of the first few chapters. Anyways...read on!

**Disclaimer:** FMA:not mine, k?

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"You awake?" 

Mustang sat up groggily, rubbing his sore eyes, trying to place the owner of the voice. The voice itself was an unwelcome intrusion upon his sleepy brain, his head groaning from the sudden awakening. He opened his eyes slowly, grimacing as the first bit of light hit. Though there wasn't much light in the room, it was enough to make the man cringe. Turning his head slightly, his eyes caught a figure sitting on a nearby crate, although his still half asleep brain couldn't seem to process who it was. The person looked pretty familiar. It must be someone he knew. Everything was so hazy. He yawned, rubbing his head sleepily. Something had to be done about this. Maybe he could get some…

"Urgh…" He groaned. For a moment he had even forgotten where he was when a cup of coffee was abruptly shoved in his face. Sniffing in the warm aromas, he awkwardly grasped the mug, grimacing at the scalding heat, but ignored it, drinking in the mere scent of the coffee. Contrary to popular belief, not guns, or luck, but caffeine, was a man's best friend on the battlefield, particularly early in the morning.

"Here, the First Lieutenant said that you weren't awake until you had your coffee," the voice said. There it was again: that feeling of de ja vu… Wait… Iris! The informal tone of the voice, unlike some of the younger officers whom he was used to dealing with, should have given it away immediately. It was slightly lazy and drawn out, yet at the same time, short sounding, as if she was in a hurry. If the tone wasn't enough to give away the identity, he didn't know what could.

"Thanks," he mumbled gratefully, sipping from the mug. Really though, it had to be quite early for him to be this disoriented. Even though he wasn't a morning person, he had always managed to get through mornings without too much of a hassle. Feeling for his silver watch, he flipped the cover open and squinted at the hands in the semi-darkness. The minute hand was just past the halfway mark, and the shorter hand seemed to be somewhere between five and six…which would mean it was just past five thirty. Mentally, he groaned. It was much too early to be awake… It was much too awake to do anything, much less wake up, and deal with Iris.

"I guess you've been up for a while?" he asked, arching an eyebrow. His eyes could barely make out his cousin's figure, sitting on a crate. The crate was originally used to transport food items from Central, but now had a place in the military tent as Roy's makeshift table to place his things upon, and in this case, a chair for visitors. He raised an arm, stretching.

Iris nodded in reply. Even in the darkness, Roy could see that Iris wasn't faring so well herself. Her eyes were half-lidded, and she yawned, her uniform crumpled and in disarray. Her hair fell over her eyes, and she didn't look like she had the energy to brush it away, as though a simple flick of her finger was too much work. Actually, it looked as though a simple conversation with him seemed to take all of her will. Iris was most definitely not a morning person. Especially early mornings. She generally wouldn't have sorted out her lefts and rights, and where was what, and who was who, or even look half asleep, before two hours had passed. Well, if there was one thing, Mustang admired his cousin for having been awake since three in the morning. Well, she did look half asleep…and if the caffeine had jolted his brain awake enough, he was reasonably certain that two hours before 5:30 was around 3:00..he hoped.

But why was she here at this time in the morning? There must have been a reason for Iris to sacrifice her sleep to come to his tent and wake him up, risking his wrath, as he put it ironically.

Roy sighed. He was better off not knowing. Maybe she was here just to say hi or something.

Shrugging to himself, he took another sip from his mug, before setting it down. Sometimes, when you weren't at the very front, things could almost seem like normal. Almost. Except that here, in the middle of a battlefield, his mind was always searching for new ways in which to cause the death of hundreds or maybe even thousands of other people. Habits of the military were ingrained into him. Groaning, he sloppily pushed himself out of his sleeping bag, rolled it, noting to himself mentally that he would have to clean up his sleeping area later, and fell to the task of smoothing out his hair while Iris sat there, watching on tiredly. Roy glanced at his cousin out of the corner of his eye, noting her slightly nervous expression on her tired face and the slight fidgeting of her hands. If it there was one thing Iris wasn't, it was nervous. She was always a very out-going person. If she were to be nervous, something would have to be wrong. And she was nervous. She kept on glancing around her, like a startled cat searching for means of escape. Her hands were clasped together, and they were constantly writhing.

"What is it?" he asked, knowing full well that whatever it was wasn't going to put him in a good mood to start off the day. He knew that it had to be too good to be true for her to be here only to greet him. Iris never dilly-dallied.

Iris looked up startled. It took her a moment to register what he had said, so absorbed she was in her thoughts and her own lack of sleep. When it finally sunk in, her face seemed to pale in the dim light.

"Um, well…" She started, stammering, "First lieutenant said to report forcremationthenammunitionsupervisationandthenthere'spaperwork," The rest of the sentence ended up in gibberish, the message relayed in one unintelligible burst before she dashed out with more energy than she looked like she had at five thirty in the morning. . She knew well enough her cousin's temper when he was annoyed at her, although funnily enough, no one else ever seemed to be on the receiving end, and she could only imagine that him having flames at his disposal didn't make his outbursts with her any less dangerous. It was funnier how she spontaneous had the energy to run. Fear played a big part of it.

Frankly, Roy had only caught the first bit; that Hawkeye was waiting for him. He could easily guess the rest though. Burn dead bodies, paperwork, and other stuff related to these goddamned wars. Roy groaned, rubbing his aching head. Today definitely wasn't going to be a good day, and it was probably only going to get worse. Still groaning, he turned his steps towards the death stained field outside, having slept in his military uniform. It was wrinkled and creased from the night's fitful sleep, He had been too lazy to change out of it the night before, and now, he looked worse than he had ever looked.

Despite straightening his hair a few minutes before, it still stuck up at weird angles.

---

"Sir." Lieutenant Hawkeye saluted crisply as Mustang approached, her orange-red eyes sternly regarding him. Her blond hair was tied and clipped meticulously. Roy could only wonder at how Hawkeye was able to be so in-tune with everything so early in the morning. He barely stifled a yawn, before lifting a hand in salut to his first lieutenant.

"At ease," He replied lazily. He walked past her and surveyed the damage that had been done the previous day for the first time. It wasn't pretty. Bodies were strewn across the field like grains of sand on a beach. Evidently, a few were still alive as there were occasional twitches coming from the largely still mass. The stench of death and blood was being blown downwind from the battlefield. Here and there, he caught a few charred bodies lying there, as well as ashes being blown around. His work. Results of alchemical battles littered the expansive grounds, holding testament to the destructive power of the Amestrian 'Human weapons'. Apparently, judging from the sections of ground that were entirely torn up, it appeared as if another alchemist with an affinity for explosions had appeared. There was one that seemed to specialize in making holes as well, probably dropping enemy soldiers into the bowels of the earth before they even realized what was going on. Ripping his eyes away from the devastated scene before him, he settled his dark gaze on Hawkeye, eyes asking a question. A question to which the same eyes were pleading for the answer to be no.

Hawkeye knew full well that the Colonel despised cleaning up the field, but it was unlikely for there another chance. Nearby, bodies of both Amestrian and Drachman soldiers had been placed in piles, ready to be disposed off. Those had been gathered off the ground that they had gained. Any further ground that they wished to gain, as it seemed that they easily had the upper hand, would be covered in dead bodies, and not one soldier relished the idea of fighting over that mess.

Snapping to attention, she relayed the orders. "The General would like 'any and all bodies to be removed', and for 'our future lands to be smoothed over'. Sir."

Mustang blanched visibly. Not only because he didn't relish the idea of burning thousands of human bodies, some still alive; not only because he knew his fingers would be dead sore from snapping. No, not only that. Perhaps the main reason was because he knew that it would earn him much respect from his men; respect that he felt was not his to earn, respect that he felt was misplaced—they would be respecting him for being a murderer, a killer, and a gravedigger.

Sighing, and settling his face into his usual façade, smiled lazily, waved her off with a gloved hand, nodded and set to work, setting his steps towards one of the many piles of dead, feeling strangely reminiscent of his days in Ishbal.

- - -

Edward slowly regained control of his own mind as his senses began taking in his surroundings. He felt tired, but strangely enough, he didn't recall any nightmares or anything of the sort. Perhaps that was why he almost forgot that this wasn't a normal mission. However, a glance at his right arm was all that was needed to shatter his fanciful illusion. Sighing, he decided the best place for him was to stay in bed, and hide away until he was needed. Really, it was pathetic. Only the first week of this, already proving to be a long and bloody, conflict, and here he was hiding away from the real world like a three-year-old child. He gritted his teeth in frustration and anger, before sighing. Well, whatever worked.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he burrowed right back into the blankets, away from the blood and the conflict. Far away from the war, and the sadness that seemed to constantly surround him. Away from the troubles of the world, and from the senseless killings, which never seemed to end, no matter how hard he tried. Why couldn't this war just end? Why couldn't he just return to the way he was? Why? He had tried hard, hadn't he? He had seen enough. What more did he have to do?

Sadly, the one thing he really wanted to escape at the moment was his own mind, which was impossible. He'd just have to go for the next best option and eliminate as many other problems as possible then.

_Great. More killing will end all killing_.

**Shut up.**

The young alchemist burrowed back into his blanket, wishing that cynical voice in his head to cease, so that he may have a moment of peace and hope. It was impossible, but he clung onto the hope that, perhaps he had saved lives in this dreaded war. That his sins did not pile up like the mounds of the dead and the dying. He buried his head in his pillow, his body wracking in silent sobs.

Unfortunately for Ed, his movements hadn't gone unnoticed. Al had taken very careful note of Ed's brief actions, and he knew sure enough that his brother was aiming to spend the day lazing in bed. He knew that the week so far couldn't have been easy for him, but that didn't mean that Ed would get off the hook. Unfortunately, Alphonse did not know all that went through his older brother's mind, but nonetheless, he was worried about his brother, as well, and he wanted to get Ed to talk to him, and that was impossible if Ed insisted on sleeping the day away. Besides, what if they got attacked, or someone asked for his brother and he was still in bed? That wouldn't reflect so well on the great Fullmetal Alchemist. As silently as an armour could move, which was pretty silent, especially when he put his mind to it, Al tip-toed over to his brother's bed with every intention of dragging him out with force if necessary, being very mindful of any injuries Ed might have, of course.

After all, he was quite the gentle and soft little brother.

"Mmmmphhhrrrrrummmph."

Ed, however, was being much more stubborn than usual, and had no wish to be forcibly removed from his nice warm blankets. Blue alchemic electricity flashed, and Al was very suddenly surprised by a stone wall appearing before him abruptly, halting any further progress that he would make towards his brother. "Go away Al…" Ed mumbled incoherently. "Lemme sleep…"

"Come on, nii-san! You should get up now! I know that you're awake; you're just being stubborn. Please?" Al tapped his foot impatiently on the other side of the divider that now separated the two. Really, his brother could be such a kid sometimes. And he had slept with his stomach exposed again. "You know that I could get rid of this wall!"

Edward snorted in amusement. "And I could just as easily put it back up…now leave me alone…" Ed burrowed deeper into his blankets, far away from the cold; both physical, and emotional. Little did he know, his trials had only begun.

Al however, wasn't listening. The armor shook his head, as though in sympathy of what to come. Quickly, with a loud 'humph', he left the bedside, and strode out of the tent, with only a single purpose in his mind. He had long since gotten a rather interesting idea and had left in search of a certain someone. A certain someone that wasn't too hard to find.

"Hughes-san!" Al waved enthusiastically at the black-haired man. Hughes had been wandering around and searching for more people to show off his adorable Elysia-chan. The man had just been groveling to a new recruit, who looked rather lost as to how he was to rid this annoying man, especially since Hughes-san had quite a higher rank than he had. Fortunately for him, Al quickly caught Hughes's eye with the morning sunlight glinting of his armour, and he rushed over to Al, eager to show him his pictures. The other officer seemed to sigh in relief, as he rushed away from the scene, grateful to be rid of the annoying man.

"Heh, isn't she sooooo cute?" Hughes immediately proffered his stacks of photos in front of Al's face. He looked as though he were ten feet tall with those pictures, proudly strutting around and shoving him at people's noses. His expression was of pure delight at the thought of being able to show off of his daughter. He was a very proud father.

"Yes, she is very cute Hughes-san." Al quickly responded, looking rather alarmed at the way Hughes was eyeing him, as though he were a new victim of sorts. He quickly launched into another sentence before the other man could speak.

"Maybe you could show them to nii-san?" Al asked hopefully, knowing that it would be sure to get Edward out of bed. "I mean, wouldn't it be nice if you could get him out of be- umm, I mean, let him enjoy Elysia-chan's photos? I'm sure he'll appreciate it!"

"Of course!" Hughes rushed off, strutting gleefully towards an unsuspecting Ed while Al stayed behind, hoping not to incur his brother's wrath. It turned out to be a wise move.

Within seconds of Hughes entrance, excessively loud swearing, banging, and more curses could be heard. A very irritated looking Ed stormed out being trailed by an oblivious Hughes who was completely entranced by his pictures, as well as sporting a rather large bump on his head. Anyone nearby immediately scrambled to clear the path for the extremely pissed-looking Fullmetal Alchemist.

Al caught his brother's eye, which very clearly said 'I'm going to get you for this.' It was that look which made him look ten-feet taller, as well as incredibly frightening. It was as though a dark, ominous cloud was hovering over him, complete with lightning and the works.

"Eep!" Al, with the valour of discretion, decided that today might be a good day to stay out of Edward's way, and quickly cleared off, his armor clanging noisily, with a hurried "Gottagobye!" directed back at his older brother. He quickly disappeared behind a row of tents before Edward could move towards his direction.

Luckily for Al, at least some of those that the Colonel had assigned to Ed had the sense to try and calm him down. Before he could explode and coat the campground with Maes' guts, a large member of men quickly appeared out of no where, blocking his direct route to his younger brother. Laughing, they were trying to drag him over to their group, offering him coffee and breakfast.

Giving up on trying to look over the heads (although he would never admit that it was because he was short) of those 'molesting' him, Ed heaved a sigh and sat down on a crate, with his breakfast plate and a mug of coffee, which he placed down by his foot, looking rather depressed. His golden eyes reflected his inner turmoil within him. His blond hair was all messed up, and his 'antenna' stuck up at an odd angle, which did nothing to mask his true height. He sighed, and played with his food absently.

"Aww, cheer up Major," one of the men said. Most everyone who hadn't lost a friend, at least, was still giddy over their massive victory the previous day. Not to mention, they were extremely pleased that none of them had died, and that Major Elric had had made a full recovery. Of course, they were all rather embarrassed that none of them had been there to ensure Fullmetal's safety, and none of them hesitated to say so. A man patted the younger boy on the back, looking rather apologetic. Suddenly, Edward was swarmed with a huge wave of apologies and a million voices talking at once.

Ed, however, assured them that it wasn't their fault.

"Anyways, I don't think anyone could have gotten anywhere in that madhouse." He joked, and though his laugh sounded strained, all the other men looked quite relieved, to say the very least.

"See, told you not to worry, Taft," a tall man with brown hair and glasses playfully punched Taft, who grimaced playfully, and punched him back on the arm. Taft was of average height, dark hair, blue eyes, and had a nose like a hawk's beak. His laid-back nature made him easily approachable. His weapon, a long rifle, was slung on his back, the safety catch on.

"Anyways, Turner, you were saying something about the mail?" His companion spoke again, directing it towards another man.

Turner was a darker skinned man, heavy and well built. "Yeah, just some news from home. Heard that that madman Kimbley got through the motions of an appeal or something like that. Heard that he's in the slammer for blowing up his superiors. He turns people into bombs. y'know? Scary huh?" There was much shuddering and apprehension at this. "Ah, I saw you got something too, Taft? huh?" Turner broke the discomfort that he had brought upon the group.

A smile instantly lit up Taft's face. "Yeah, I got a letter from my fiancé!"

There was much hearty backslapping and congratulations at this. Some of them already had family and wives of their own, some still lived with their parents, and some, like Taft, had a sweetheart back home, waiting for their safe return.

"Well? Tell us about her!" A man from the crowd called out. This was greeted with much enthusiasm, and men encouraged Taft with their voices, their smiles infectious. Even Edward smiled a little at the lightheartedness of the conversations and happiness, as though his world had just right itself again.

Looking embarrassed, yet pleased, Taft complied. "Well, she's slightly taller than me, around your height Ilsley," Taft paused a moment to indicate the taller man who had spoken first, "a slip of a girl though. Brown hair and eyes like a mouse, and a wonderfully soft voice. She's most always smiling too." Taft broke off with a dreamy look on his face, and the others eagerly took up the slack with discussion of their own families.

One man took out a picture of his daughter and showed it to the others. In the background, Ed sweatdropped nervously; this guy really reminded him of Hughes…

"Aww, she sure is cute, Garson!" Everyone crowded around the picture, except for Ed who hung back, and Garson, who stood back proudly. Yup, definitely obsessed. With a little more training, they might have another Maes on their hands.

"Yeah, her name's Kira. Turned three four months ago," Garson smiled proudly as he carefully retrieved his picture of his beloved daughter.

"Who's the mom?" A short man, skinny, blonde hair, dark eyes named Turner spoke up.

Garson… 'Master Sergeant Lionel Garson' Ed remembered, produced another picture. This one was of a stout woman, most likely his wife, an older man and woman, probably his parents, a young boy, two dogs, and him. Lionel pointed out each person as he 'introduced' them. "This is my wife, Mirabelle. See the bulge in Mira's stomach? That's Kira there. There, our son, Ryan. He's six now. My mom, Karitha, and my dad, Tony. And that one," Garson pointed to a small wiry terrier in Ryan's arms, "is Rido, and that one's Ferric." Ferric was an iron-grey greyhound, which contrasted sharply with both the smaller Rido, and Ryan who he stood next to.

Cotler laughed. "Ryan looks a whole lot like my younger brother," he chuckled.

"Really? How old is he?" the others prompted Cotler eagerly. Everyone enjoyed lighthearted talk, and wanted it to last for as long as possible.

"Well, I figure he's around ten now. I haven't seen him for a while since he's been fostered in the west since he was four. He's…nine years younger than me, 7 years younger than my sister. Ah, my sister's Karin, she's a nurse in the military hospitals," Cotler chuckled. "Really, my whole family's in the military. My dad's a Colonel, my mom was a Lieutenant before she married my dad…she's dead now though. My uncle's stationed somewhere out west, my granddad was in the milit--" Cotler was cut off by a bark as a small furry head nuzzled his leg. "Ah, and Roran's in the military too, I guess," he said with a laugh. The dog barked, as though in agreement, and everyone laughed.

Edward, meanwhile, sat back feeling somewhat left out in their discussion, as he had a rather meager family of his own, when his thoughts were interrupted.

"Hey Fullmetal, how 'bout you?" A man, blonde hair, brown eyes, probably Sergeant Lomer Aylesworth, if Ed recalled his voice correctly, asked.

Ed, not knowing what to say, remained silent for a while, causing the others to shift in their seats nervously. After a while, collecting his thoughts, Ed replied slowly, trying to phrase it in a way so he wouldn't end up the object of pity. "Well, it's mostly just me and my brother, Alphonse…" not knowing what to say, Edward trailed off.

Someone, rather stupidly, spoke up. "Your parents let you join the military?"

Someone, who had understood why Ed had trailed off, elbowed him hard. "Shut up, Davis," he hissed.

Ed looked down. "She's dead," he said shortly.

"Oh, I'm sorry…" the man called Davis said quietly, sounding trite.

Ed shrugged. "No big deal. Anyways, that bastard of a father left us quite a while ago, so you don't have to ask about him," Ed all but spat the part about his father. "But we've got a friend back home, and Granny Pinako, and they work out as family just fine. Not that we visit Rizembool much anyways…Anyways, what about you?" Ed indicated the man just to his right. "And, uh, what's your name again?" Ed really didn't know. Thinking back, maybe he should have checked who was who…

The man replied with a laugh. "Corporal Andrew Fillmore, at your service! Well, I ain't got no sweetheart or nuthin', just my parents. Ah, my brother's John, he's posted down south. Parents were against us joining up, since we don't really need the cash, but we didn't really mind them anyways. 'sides, our uncle joined up, so we're just following his footsteps. Well, he died too, so we ain't keen on following those footsteps," Fillmore laughed heartily, joined with the other men.

The man just to Ed's left sat forward. "Well, if we're all talking about our families, I might as well disclose some information about mine, huh? Sergeant Lomer Aylesworth, by the way. Well, I've got a kid, six months old now, Koran's his name. His mum's Arianna. We live, well, she and the kid, since I'm not home at the time, with her parents. Kyle and Cecille. They're taking care of Kyo, my ca—"the Sergeant never got to finish that sentence, as suddenly, he crumpled right into Ed's lap, blood leaking from a bullet hole in his head, features fixed into an expression of surprise and horror. Everyone else turned whirled around abruptly, as though in slow motion, looks of surprise and horror filling up their faces. No one had been expecting this. No one had thought that the Drachmans could call upon reinforcements so quickly. Some of the scrabbled for their weapons, while others ran off to find the higher officers. Even more stayed around Edward, as though somehow believing that them dying would certainly mean that the life of Edward would be saved.

A blood-curdling scream. "Charge!"

* * *

haha...evil cliffy..well, not really...ok, it is...and if you thought I forgot about the homunculus...fear not, they'll appear soon... 

oh, don't forget to take a review and leave a cookie...or, reverse that : p


	9. Chapter 9: A Desperate Tide

**A/N:** I love this chapter...so pretty...Nainne has done a wonderful job on this one, so I'm certain that she'd love if you left comments on her wonderful work. I apologise for the long update time, but I hope that this chapter leaves you satisfied! Enjoy! I must say, this is my favourite chappy yet!

* * *

Before most soldiers could pull out their guns, a wave of Drachman grey was upon them. It was a mess of close hand to hand combat for most, and those who weren't as specialized were quickly cut down. Not even one Amestrian soldier was prepared for the onslaught, and some did not carry their close range weapons on them. These were quickly eliminated. Almost without exception, those who had been closest to the front, and had had no time to prepare themselves or to even recover from their surprise or shock, were too, killed. Men who only moments before had been chatting cheerfully were now screaming in pain and death. Blood flowed freely from open wounds, heads were cracked and cut open like watermelons, or lopped off. Stomach wounds ensued, guts spilling out over the ground, sometimes having entrails of multiple people tangled together as one. Red pulsing masses that were once stomachs, intestines livers were strewn carelessly over trampled, bloody ground. 

Of course, even though they too had been taken by surprise, Mustang and Hawkeye didn't quite suffer the same fate as some.

When the ambush had begun, the Colonel had been gazing out over the fields, feeling rather depressed. The sun still had not fully risen, the dull glow from the sun casting ominous shadows over the battlefield. Tipping his head back, he allowed his eyes to wander for a second upwards. The sky had been a gloomy grey colour, dampening his mood, for grey skies often meant rain. The Flame Colonel did not like rain for obvious reasons. He lifted a hand up to the sky, stretching it out, as though to grasp the clouds and toss them away, so that he may be able to have a days rest. His eyebrows furrowed. No luck. Sighing, he had just closed his hands around his mug of coffee, and was about to take a sip, when a huge bang penetrated the air. He shot up, and placed his fingers in a snapping position, being in the military made that his second nature, and looked around warily, his eyebrows furrowed deeply, and his feet in a defensive stance.

Another gunshot pierced the silence. He slowly turned around, and walked carefully and warily towards the sound, his lips dry, and his hands tense, ready to snap at the first sign of danger. There was another shot, and suddenly, someone came running his direction, a blond blur, with a grey flash, but before he could snap, or cry out, the blur quickly situated itself in front of him, gun pointing in the opposite direction. Hawkeye!

Before he could speak, Riza intervened.

"It's an ambush, sir,"

And all hell broke loose as the waves of grey swept over them.

Soon, a small clearing had been formed with the sharp-shooting Lieutenant and the flame-wielding Colonel in the centre. Snap, bang, snap, crack, bang, snap, snap. A steady rhythm soon grew from the Colonel's flames and the Lieutenant's guns. Many men fell.

---

"Ah… Ah…" Edward managed to gasp, his hands tremble as he stared at the blood thing on his lap, frozen in shock when Aylesworth's bloody limp form, mainly his head, had landed in his lap, a soft thump following the impact. Although it was short lived. The sound of the head falling into his lap rang in his head, as he fought to get his bearings, staring down wide-eyed at the prone form in his lap. Shouting was all around him, but he couldn't hear it. People were screaming in his ear, but he didn't register it. All he could do was to stare, and to feel the numbness that was creeping up his body, not of pain or death, but of sorrow and anger. What was he to do? What could he do?

Suddenly, there was a resounding slap, and sudden pain brought him back to his senses. One gloved hand slowly rose to his cheek, as though in shock, as his blue eyes finally registered Fillmore, standing there, his own gloved hand looking rather swollen, his eyes down casted, and full of regret. But the boy, though registering the slap, did not respond. He simply stared, before bringing his eyes back down to the body on his lap, tears beginning to fill up his eyes.

Finally, out of desperation, Fillmore tried something else. He grabbed his handgun, taking careful aim, he placed it next to Ed's head, and pulled the trigger, the gun pointed at a Drachman soldier who was struggling with Cotler. The man fell with a resounding crack from the gun, clutching his chest in agony. But it had worked. Edward responded to the noise of the gun, jumping up, tears streaming from his eyes, the body falling out of his lap, and hitting the ground with a thump… Fillmore grinned grimly. Two birds down with one stone. Edward at least had some sense in him now, and his shot had found its mark for once.

Without looking back, Fillmore, pleased with the results, picked up his gun and began systematically firing, aiming randomly into the crowd of grey, careful not to hit any of his allies. More Drachma soldiers fell. Here and there, small clearings were being formed, small circles of groups of people. As with many others, Fillmore wielded a bayonet. The knife end would be easily detachable should the time to need it come. And came it soon did.

Edward sprung into action as soon as the body hit the ground. Nearly blinded by tears, he dropped to one knee while he brought his hands together and slammed them down on the ground as though in anguish, as though wishing to let out all of his grief. He let out a an angry cry as blue alchemic light flashes along the ground and grey spikes jutted diagonally from the ground, outwards of the small group, impaling any who had been unlucky enough. People screamed. Enraged, he wiped his eyes free of his tears, his eyes determined, and with a flourish, transmuted the projections back, blue light spinning wildly and sent out another wave, only further. He was rewarded by a fresh round of screams, added to the already deafening cacophony of cries. Strange. He really didn't feel any remorse at the moment, despite that he knew, realised, was fully aware that he was causing the deaths of others. It was amazing what he could do once he overcame his obstacles. He toyed with that thought for a while, before pulling out number of small knives from his belt, and with a flash of blue alchemic lighting, transmuting them together, charged, his new weapon spinning in his hands like a dervish.

"This one's for you, Aylesworth!"

And he stabbed the weapon into the body of a drachma soldier, impaling it, and nailing it to the ground, his face savage, and his hands steady. With another shove, he nailed the body completely into the ground, the soldier still alive, and screaming from the wound, before turning away, and running off again, this time, into the thick of battle.

---

By this time, the small circle that had been temporarily formed back where Edward's internal battle had been taking place, was rushed upon, and Ilsley immediately fell prey. The man screamed as a bayonet found its mark, pinning him to the back of another Amestris soldier. The last thing he saw was stars.

Fillmore lasted for a bit longer, battling bravely. Quickly, he spun around, stabbing his bayonet into an enemy soldier's back, and watched as the blood trickled down his back, and the body go limp, as the scream faded. It was almost entrancing. But when he tried to pull his weapon back out of the body, he found that it was stuck, and spent a few precious seconds trying to dislodge the weapon, a desperate look on his face. When he finally dislodged the weapon, he was brought down with a severe side wound from a jab from a sword, which made it easy for his neck to be lopped off in two magnificent fountains of blood. The killer licked his lips, savouring the kill, before engaging in battle again. However, he never got that far as Cotler had whipped out his side arm, and had shot him, dead, before using the same gun to knock his opponent on the head. Who ever said that you couldn't fight close combat with a gun?

---

Edward could hear his own rasping breathing, and his sweat trickling down his forehead, stinging his eyes. But he didn't have the time to brush the beads of sweat aside, for as soon as he killed one, another took his place, as savage as ever, and he had to kill again, blood on his eyes, leaving a trail of impaled bodies on stone spires.

He was performing what seemed to him an endless cycle, a grim repetition of events that had transpired only a day earlier. Really, in these situations, he was more of a fighter than an alchemist. Slash, stab, down cut, elbow then step, down slash, upper cut. Repeat. Occasionally, he would catch a glimpse of someone's face, of their expression as they went down in a spout of red; expressions of horror, pain, of fear. Edward knew that no matter how much time passed, those faces would be ones that were seared in his memory forever; a reminder of the deed he had done, a reminder of what lengths he would go to for his brother. After running yet another man through with his knife, he turned and jumped onto another, emitting a blood-curdling scream that was lost in the din as he brought his blade down to sever whatever ran through the man's neck.

- - -

Iris whipped around, her eyes wide, and her hands trembling slightly, frantically trying to keep attackers at bay. Her breathing was harsh and rasping, and a cramp at her side was forever nagging her, but she couldn't give up, no matter what her mind said. No matter what her mind told her. It wasn't easy. At any moment, she could be out numbered and rushed, someone who she hadn't notice could take a gun to her, someone might come at her at her blind spot, attack from the back…the possibilities were endless. At any time, it was at least one against three, if not a more disproportionate ratio. Yet, fighting alone under this sort of pressure was what she thrived under, it was where she could bring out her full potential, it was where she could strike out without inhibitions, without the worry of injuring her opponent, since he had to die anyways. Yes, it was what she lived for. She would duck and stab upwards, hopefully catching her target unawares, slash sideways, catching someone in the stomach, block a blow and jab with her own blade. She revelled in the looks of pain on the other's faces, not because she enjoyed causing it, but because it was a testament to her own skill.

Suddenly, she saw someone lunge towards her, and quickly spun to block and counterattack, but never got around to it as a pile of blue came hurtling towards her and knocked her down. From her vantage point, she watched as the soldier, his long hair tied up in a pony tail whipping around in the wind as though a tail off of a horse, State Alchemist, she could see now, placed both hands on a nearby Drachman, and proceeded to scram, taking Iris with him. It was evident why soon enough. A massive explosion occurred where the two had just been, an explosion of red and white, dust flying everyone, and panic ensuing among the ranks. Iris stared for a moment, and would have been shell shocked by what had transpired, if not for her experience. All she could see were entrails and blood, as well as dismembered body parts where the group of Drachma soldiers once stood. She could hardly breath because of the thick smell of sulphur in the air, and the putrid smell of decay. And she couldn't move by the suddenness of it all, before the screams of the wounded brought her back. "Thanks," she said, nodding towards the man. Both soon engaged in fight again.

- - -

Radon smiled. Unbeknownst to Iris, he enjoyed battle as much as she did. Only, he enjoyed watching people blow up. It was really quite amusing. He had found that he could concentrate the explosion in certain parts of the body, so that he could blow each of the limbs off, detach the head, and maybe include a nice hole in the stomach too. The effects were really very amusing. Locating another target, who had intended to make Radon his victim, he quickly ducked and placed both hands on the man. He smiled as he felt his three transmutation circles glow. One was hung around his neck from a chain, and two were tattooed on his either side, in a formation of a perfect equilateral triangle. Before the Drachman knew what was happening, his various body parts were scattered within a twenty-metre radius, and Radon was off and away. He had chosen his target well, for the man had been surrounded by Drachman grey. With that one explosion, at least 5 others had gone down with him. Luck was on his side today.

Suddenly, his face became transfixed in a mask of horror, as he grabbed the blade now protruding from his stomach. Maybe today wasn't his lucky day after all.

- - -

Sora smiled grimly as she saw her opponent drip with blood. While she could only see his face and hands, she was certain that the skin on his entire body had been destroyed sufficiently. Taking that one instance in which he howled with pain, Sora whipped around, as her braided hair hit him in the neck. A blade had been braided in, with the triangular end of it protruding past the hair tie, concealed in the little bushy bit at the end. It had been suggested back when she was still six, and as a result, many of the young girls had had similar slim blades woven in. Normally, it wasn't sharp enough or large enough to do damage, but with enough force applied, like she had just done now, it was enough to slice through the skin of a full grown elephant. Someone's neck might as well have been cream.

She wrinkled her nose. Even though it was an effective way to kill, she also knew that the blood stains would never be able to be washed out of her hair.

Sora was deadly. She knew that, and Iris knew that. Perhaps that was the full extent, as even those who had trained her only knew her abilities in one field. Besides, not even her parents had been consulted in some of her training. Her jewellery was anything but decorative. If one observed her two bracelets closely, they would find a circle on each bead inscribed with a five-pointed star with a circle inscribed into it. Looking closer, one would find that miniscule characters were carved and painted next to each point of each star. Each bracelet held five of these beads. On her back, an intricate tattoo with five interlocking circles connected by a large five-pointed star that expanded through all five was drawn with a flourish of colours. One red, one blue, one yellow, one brown, and one green. In the centre of the five circles and the one large star lay a smaller circle, with another star transcribed into it. This one stood out in start contrast to the rest, as opposed to the colourful rainbow the others were done in, this one had a stark black circle, and a pure white star. The importance of this marking, only Sora knew. She was also the only one to know the full potential. She would rather keep it that way.

Mindlessly, three more men had gone down like the first. Skin destroyed, and in that one moment of excruciating pain, they were felled. It was simple, really. All it was, was a reversal of the healing that was found much more commonly in Rentanjutsu. If it could be used to heal skin, it could just as easily be modified to destroy. This was the nature of the Xue clan's alchemy.

She gracefully moved past the dead, her light brown almost twinkling, as she gave the Drachma soldier, who had tried to sneak up on her from behind, a scathing look, before whipping around, her braided hair catching him, his neck slit. He crumpled to the ground. Looking down upon the body, she could easily make out the horrified expression on his face, and a feeling of pity surged through her. She turned away.

'_I'll pray for them later,'_

First, she had to survive this.

- - -

Armstrong, by now, had long discarded his shirt, and said shirt and long been trampled and cut into little ribbons by his alchemy and bayonets of soldiers. And for once, he didn't look nearly as glistening-y as he usually did, no pink sparkles, no showing off of the muscles. Instead, a grim look had made its way to his features. He brandished his fists, his gauntlet almost sparkling in the light, before pointing it at a group of drachma soldiers just before him, his brows furrowed, and his back sweaty from the battle.

"Behold the art that has been passed down through the generations of Armstrongs!" he declared loudly in a booming voice, as he punched straight down, his muscles rippling. Starting from the point where his gauntlet covered fist had made contact with the ground, a zigzag line of miniature statues of Armstrongs, constructed of a mixture of stone and ice, each wielding a wickedly sharp blade, rose from under Drachmans' feet, piercing their bodies thoroughly. Another thump and the ground was as smooth as it had once been.

- - -

Taft and Garson stood back to back, a whirling hurricane of guns and knives. In one hand, Taft held a metal, reinforced side arm, and in the other, a long dagger. The dagger was of an interesting design; one side had a jagged edge, the other was smooth. The tip had three prongs; it was as if someone had cut a wedge into the centre of the tip, and had inserted another sharp point. Garson opted for the more traditional bayonet, rifle slung over his shoulder, blade in hand. The two together managed to keep their structure stable, repelling attackers. That was, until someone lunged at Garson, knife in hand. The problem with the bayonet was that it was awkward and unwieldy, and not nearly agile enough to completely block that particular attack. Instead of pushing the assailant and his blade back, the knife's edge slid down the bayonet's side to slash open Garson's stomach. Garson screamed. Suddenly, the fragile balance fell apart, and they were soon felled upon like a carcass by a flock of vultures.

- - -

Iris smiled. By now, she had pinned this one down, and it was obvious that he wouldn't last much longer. None of his injuries were too serious, although they were numerous. Yes, one more should finish him off…

Standing back for a moment, her problem disposed off, she observed the scene around her. It was eerily similar to the last battle. With one exception. The Drachmans wanted their revenge, and they were getting it. They were being paid back in blood. Sighing, Iris slunk off, cat like, and pounced onto someone's back, dagger in hand, as she let out her own battle cry.

- - -

Al stared, wide-eyed, at the carnage that was happening before him. A hurried word from the Colonel had sent him away from the mayhem, to help with the shifting of the field hospital. He had been worried about his brother though, and had come back to see if he could help, maybe. After all, he was better at sparring than him. However, that was before he had seen this, seen the blood, seen the death. That was before he had heard the screams of the dead, of the wounded, of the dying. Here and there, he could catch evidence of his brother. A giant stone fist rose out of the ground, a body hanging limply in its grasp. Spikes littered the landscape, some slightly broken, others still intact, and some impaled an unfortunate fool. Even more, he admired his brother, yet, he was deadly scared of him too. How could his brother do this? The caring, slightly violent and explosive, and sensitive brother that he had always known…

Unable to take it any longer, he turned tail and fled. If he were human, he would have cried.

- - -

Edward growled as he circled warily around his opponent. This had gone on for long enough, and he didn't enjoy leaving his back unprotected. He wasn't stupid, and knew enough that it was very easy to take someone down from behind when their attention was focused elsewhere. Also, he had been fighting for some four hours now, and he was exhausted. So far, no one had gotten in any serious hits that could do any damage. The Drachman, because Ed was above his ability, and Ed, because the Drachman blocked too damn fast! At least, Ed knew he still had one trump card up his sleeve. His automail, nor manner of alchemy hadn't been exposed yet.

Except…the problem with having your ace up your sleeve, was that the other person might have one too.

"Having trouble keeping up, kid?" The Drachman soldier smirked in a way that was way too similar to a certain idiotic Colonel. Besides…he had called him short.

Ed growled again, and let fly one of his smaller push knives a bit hastily.

"Oh my, is the little bean getting angry?" The man chuckled inwardly. So amusing that almost every short person got pissed at having the facts stated. Now if that kid could just let fly…then maybe he could get one good shot in. After all, what damage could one berserk kid do anyways?

As it turned out, a lot. Ed did let fly with all he had, and he was angry and pissed from the amount of short comments he had gotten over the past week but couldn't retaliate. Edward smoothly swung his dagger in his left hand to the man's neck before bringing it down and slashing at his stomach. Before the guy knew what had hit him, a very hard fist flattened his nose. Growling, Ed transmuted his right arm, blue alchemic lightning crackling wildly, so that a blade came shooting out of the side, forward, to skewer the guy's brain. He could feel the blood on his hands, or at least his non-automail hand, but strangely enough, he couldn't care less. The blood was almost refreshing to him, washing away the dirt that had cumulated on his hand, from transmuting things, and from fighting in general. It was almost peaceful.

But he couldn't relax. Not now. Whirling around, he swung his transmuted blade into the neck of another Drachma soldier who had tried to take advantage of his momentary distraction, a savage look plastered on his face. Yes, when obstacles were overcome, Edward Elric, Fullmetal Alchemist, was a very valuable asset.

- - -

In the chaos of their surroundings, no one noticed the Drachman soldier that had just been dispatched by Edward crick his neck as he stirred before dusting himself off and standing up. "Nice going, Fullmetal shrimp. Seems like you're worth more than we thought."

---

Snap. Another life turned into a pile of cinders. Bang. A bullet through the neck, blood gurgling from both the entry and exit wound. Click. Reload. Snap. A flare of heat flashed into their faces. Bang. Into the eye, at close enough range that it pierced through the retina, the jelly like part, past the nerve points, and into the brain.

Hawkeye and Mustang, still back to back, stood their ground. Both were firing frantically, both knowing that if anyone got too close, they could be in trouble. Mustang could feel his fingers being bruised, injured, sore. Hawkeye still had enough ammunition to last a while, but it couldn't last forever. And even someone with a blind eye could see that the Amestrians were not doing well.

- - -

Damnit. Iris had met her match, or rather, someone who was more than enough for her match. Any bystander would have been able to tell who was winning. And it wasn't Iris. Her opponent moved to run her through, but at the last instance, opted instead to split her skull instead. Iris ducked, but not nearly enough. Instead of getting impaled, she got buffeted with the side of the sword, the edge barely grazing her skull. Iris dropped. The man smirked, preparing to deliver the final blow. Iris resigned herself. Such a pity though, she had just seen her cousin again too…she did wish that she had had a longer time to spend with him…

The last blow didn't come. Someone came hurtling through, knocking the man's blade away. To Iris, the person looked very familiar… "Sora?" she asked, half to herself, half to whoever it was, before she slipped into unconsciousness.

Sora growled as she faced the man who had Iris so badly. The man snickered, unperturbed. "Oh, another one? How fortunate for me then, two girls in one day. Weaklings, the lot of you. You ought to be home cooking dinner and whatnot."

Sora snarled menacingly, before she set on him with claws and fangs. "No one hurts my big sister (1) and gets away with it!" Everything that she could fight with, came pouring out. The other guy was dead before he even knew it. Not that it mattered to Sora. As long as he was still standing, she tore into his flesh, clawing at any part of him she could get at. All that was left when she was finished, was an unidentifiable bloody mass.

Dropping to her knees next to Iris, Sora quickly pulled out something tucked into the back of her shirt. She couldn't do much for Iris now, but at least she could stop the bleeding.

- - -

Edward jumped back as he saw a flame burst into life nearby. Only one person could have done that. Swivelling his head around, sure enough, he caught sight of the raven-haired man, back to back with the shorter blond sniper. Ed fought his way over to join them. Despite his earlier kills, now that he was thinking slightly calmer, he tried to avoid death as much as he could, once again, preferring to aim for non-lethal, crippling shots. Men fell down in agony now, but not in death, all calling out for their comrades to help them.

Edward made his way to the edge of the circle, his body aching. People charged him from all sides, but he stood his ground, his mind quickly processing information, and his transmutation brought about bouts of death, as alchemy wasn't the best for non-death results. He edged forward painfully slowly, gritting his teeth, and alchemic lightning nearly surrounding him.

And for his efforts, he nearly got crisped. A burst of flame conjured up by a certain colonel flashed by his face, singing a few strands of his blond hair, stained with blood and sweat. He leapt back at the last moment, and crashed into a Drachma soldier, and spent the better part of three minutes fighting to get the upper hand. After dispatching the soldier, he got up, swearing, and rolled quickly towards the centre.

Mustang, was tired, but not too tired to notice the red jacket. But he didn't acknowledge it, and instead continued firing, fire flying off of his finger tips, as people were incinerated by the heat of the flames. Ed stood up, and still annoyed at his close miss at becoming baked shrimp, clapped his hands together before slamming them into the ground. Spikes impaled yet another rank of people, holding the Drachmas at bay. Hawkeye nodded gratefully at the young boy.

"Sir, I don't know how much longer we can last," Hawkeye shouted over the din as she reloaded her guns. Her ammunition was becoming scarce.

"Dammit, just keep on going!" Mustang replied, continuing to turn men into crisply scorched filets.

Edward knew what they meant. He had seen the devastation that was being wrecked on the Amestrian soldiers. It was true that they had the lethal "human weapons", but they were few, and the Drachmans were winning purely through strength in numbers.

Hawkeye nodded. She knew what he meant. 'Kill as many as possible so it's easier next time. Wait for the retreat,' was his unspoken message. No need to say it out loud though, because for it to be voiced, would only make their clear loss more evident.

Fortunately, or maybe not, the cry came at that moment.

"RETREAT!"

Ed looked around, not certain what to do. Around him, men were scrambling for their lives, hoping to get out of this alive. Several Amestris soldiers tripped, and were trampled by their fellow comrades, before quickly dispatched by the Drachmas, who were routing the rest of them. He felt a surge of anger fill him at the sight, at the sight of people dying such a way, trampled and lying in filthy mud, as their comrades escaped. Humans were such animals.

It felt wrong to just give up on a fight. But the price of life was too great. It wouldn't be right to sacrifice even more lives.

'_More fighting will not end all fighting, not now, not ever.'_

"Damn it!" Ed screamed as he slammed his hands to the ground, sending up a long row of spikes extending across the distance. He could feel his anger and frustration mounting, and as he poured all of that frustration into his alchemy, the wall of spikes grew, impaling Drachma soldiers, and covering for the Amestris retreat. At least he could maybe stop some of the bullets that would no doubt be fired.

"Come on Fullmetal, now's not the time for heroics," Mustang screamed at him while tugging at his sleeve. The Colonel hated retreat too, but that was the only thing they could do. He knew that if they got to their reserve lines, they would have enough reinforcement to hold the opposition at bay.

When the younger alchemist didn't move from his spot on the ground, the older man cursed, before with astounding strength, lifted the boy up from the ground, Edward's eyes wide with shock, and ran, carrying Edward with him.

Soon, sounds of gunfire were being heard from both sides. They had reached the Amestrian reserve lines. The battle was over. The Drachmans had regained what they had lost.

* * *

(1) Not literally. Term of respect...Iris is not actually sora's big sister...it's like in japanese...nee-san, kay? 

Not only muffled is our tread;

To cheat the foe.

We fear to rouse our honoured dead;

To heal us go.

Sleep sound old friends – the keenest smart

Which more than failure, wounds the heart

Is thus to leave you – thus to part.

Australian soldier, ANZAC

**A/N: **So. This took forever. Unfortuantely. We had a bit of a problem at school, for both my beta and I, except I think I'm having a very, very, very busy time for the next while...Reasons? English, Biotech, Chem, German, Biotech, Compsci, Biotech, music stuff, biotech, a gym assignment (of all things!), Bio portfolio stuff...and more biotech...sigh...Meaning, I'll be missing for the next two months or so, maybe for christmas though...anyways, I'll probably have some oneshots up over the next few days, depending on how biotech goes...and I apologise for the long period of inactivity...


	10. Chapter 10: Strained Heart

**A/N:** Apologies, apologies. Much thanks to Nainne for the beta of this chapter. And no, I'm not quite dead just yet...I simply haven't been updating stuff : ) I'm very excited to be finally progressing along with this story, because hopefully something vaugely fun is going to happen soon! Well, depending on your definition of 'fun' I guess...

**Disclaimer:** All characters that you have seen before today belong to Arakawa Hiromu/their respective owners.

* * *

Life likes to play its cards in unpredictable ways. And no matter how good your hand might be, somehow, some day, you'll eventually lose your gamble. Although, there's always that slim chance of recovery, and hope in the next hand.

Unfortunately for them, it had been the Amestrians who had lost this round.

It was interesting what war could do to one's psych. Needless to say, the Amestrian encampment was in complete disarray. Lists of those missing and confirmed dead were being compiled; Lieutenants reported to Captains and Majors, they compiled lists and handed them to their COs. Harried officers rushed here and there, faces drawn from exhaustion and for many, from shock. A sort of quiet loudness reverberated throughout, orders and commands being relayed around. Names and numbers were drawn up in charts, letters were prepared for those on those charts. Men (and women) worried over missing comrades; no one knew if they were missing, dead, prisoner, or maybe just on the other side of camp. Then, there were those who had seen friends die in front of their eyes, those who had seen the dead bodies of their comrades. Silently, respectfully, fearfully and in shock, soldiers paid their respects to the dead, even if their body couldn't have been retrieved. It was just the right thing to do.

Of course, there were the many injured too. Of their number, a substantial percentage sustained severe wounds that would either kill them, or if they were lucky, never serve in the military again and get away with their measly human lives. Most would simply take a while to recover, and then get sent right back into active service. Then there were the luckier ones, who had incurred upon themselves through battle minor injuries that would heal quickly, and pose virtually no problem. But 'lucky' and 'fortunate' were terms of relativity. For some, those who had sustained only minor injuries were the 'poor devils', while those who had been injured enough to get sent back were those who were truly lucky.

War was just one big dice game with life. Or card game. It all depended on how you looked on it.

Currently, Edward was sitting on a nearby crate, listening ashen-faced as the pitiful remainder of his unit reported the grim results. The duty fell to Warrant Officer Lewis, who stood there, fidgeting slightly, struggling to hold his head up high, but avoiding

eye-contact with Edward. The man had approached the younger boy quietly, almost shyly, his eyes downcast, as though suddenly finding the grey dust on his shoes to be interesting. Once in a while, he would look to Edward with hesitant eyes, and when the younger boy did not acknowledge him in any way, he turned his eyes back down to the ground again. Finally, Edward turned to him, just as he lifted his head again to dare to glance at the younger officer. For the first time, Warrant Officer Lewis had eye-contact with the younger boy. The golden eyes were haunting, a shadow lingering in the back, as though the boy had a soul that was infinitely older than the body that he was shoved in. He could feel the golden amber of his eyes enveloping him, until he could see a reflection of himself within those haunted orbs.

He turned away, ashamed, and immediately, he felt the contact break. And words gushed out of him as though a dam had been broken by the will of the river it had held at bay.

"Fatalities so far are Sergeant Aylesworth, Master Sergeant Garson, Corporal Fillmore, Corporal Ilsley, and Sergeant Davis." It all came out in a rush, and he didn't, or couldn't stop for breath. Even without looking at Edward, he knew that the younger boy's eyes were upon him, pleadingly, as though wishing that he would stop, that it wasn't happening. That everything was alright.

"Corporal Taft is severely injured, although for the time being he is still with us. Master Sergeant Turner is missing in action, presumed dead. Sergeant Guthrie suffered a bullet to his side and shoulder, although he is expected to fully recover fairly soon…" Lewis paused to take a breath, and finally, he lifted his eyes up to give a sympathetic glance to the boy..

"I'm sorry…sir…"

Behind those haunted eyes, Edward's head was reeling. Eighty percent casualties. How could this have happened? Yes, his mind had rationalised it out that war was capable of taking any life it wanted in a split second, yet he was still struggling to accept this now, despite what he had done on the battlefield. Every one of these men had been alive and well, loved others, and were loved by others,(Love this part of the Poem Flander's Fields!), talking and laughing, living, feeling, breathing only hours ago. It had only been three hours ago that the scattered Amestrian camp had managed to drive back the Drachmans and regroup in case of another comeback. It had been barely seven or eight hours ago that they had been freely, cheerfully conversing on lighthearted topics. Yet again, life had pulled the rug out from under his feet.

His eyes took in the officer before, the sympathetic glance, and the fidgeting, which he knew he was the main reason behind all of the officer's gestures. Sudden anger welled up within him, and he shook with inner rage, in which the officer took a hesitant step back, before lowering his head, his eyes downcast. He didn't ask for any of this! He didn't want to know any of this. He wasn't a part of this! What did he ever do to have to have the casualty list flung at him like that, all the while knowing very well that he could do nothing about those casualties. That they were his fault!

His shaking subsided as his train of thought ended, and his rage was brushed away by the immense fatigue that he felt.

Edward shook his head lightly. No time for this now, he still had to deal with Al after. Oddly enough, he hadn't seen him since he had been back. Odd, since Al wasn't the type to disappear unless there was a cat around.

Standing up, he tried to reassure his subordinate. His eyes flitted towards the officer kindly, and he reached a hand to pat the officer on the shoulder.

"For what? There's nothing to be sorry for." A bitter smile, "Death is just another fact of life, isn't it?" A sigh, "Everyone dies eventually, it just so happened that for some, this part of the cycle, the greater flow of the universe came early, right?"

Then, nothing.

There was a stunned silence between the two men, before Edward smiled sadly, dipped a dreary salut, and walked away, his back straight and his walking carefree, as though nothing had happened.

Both Lewis and Cotler were filled with a new respect for their much younger commanding officer, if only for the way he was coming to terms with the dark side of war when many, themselves included, who were much older, and ostensibly should be able to accept this easier. The nodded to each other, as though sharing the same thought, and dipped a salut at their commander's back, before going off on their own to reflect upon what Edward had said.

Once he was out of sight, though, Edward walked slouched over, gloved hands in his pockets as he navigated the long distance to Mustang's post. He sighed, then a smile touched his lips, a bitter and angry smile. It wasn't that he was mature, or that he had come to terms with war that had made him say what he had said. It was simply what his teacher had said to him and Al…If he were that mature, he would have heeded them.

Speaking of which, he bumped into, literally, the person in question. Amid hurried apologies and expressions of concern, Edward picked himself off the ground as he dusted the snow off of his jacket. Al was standing there looking quite abashed and embarrassed for a suit of armour. Before Al could go on one of his apologizing tirades, Edward hushed him quickly.

"Don't worry Al, I'm not hurt!" he exclaimed, rather sharply, but not unkindly.

Al blushed, or would have. "Sorry, brother. Umm, I moved our things…should we go?" Strangely, Al seemed to avoid meeting Ed's eyes.

"Al? What's wrong?" Ed may not have been the most sensitive person, but to his brother's needs, every nerve was finely attuned. What had happened to make his little brother this distressed? For Al had started fidgeting again, the sharp sounds of his metallic fingers rubbing against each other hurt his ears, and all sadness forgotten, he rubbed his ears gingerly.

Al was flustered. "Ah! Nothing! Why don't we go?" he stammered. Something was wrong with Al. That was for sure. His little brother never stammered unless something was bothering him.

Edward sighed. He would get it out of him later. Besides, maybe it would be better for now if he didn't press the issue, as he did have his own secrets he would prefer to keep for now. No need to worry his brother even more. Well, might as well go with Al for now.

"Well…I was going to go see the Colonel, but I can do that later," Ed said, feeling in part relieved because maybe some time away from the depressing report he had just received would do him some good. "Let's go."

He had said that he wouldn't press the point further, but he couldn't shake the uncomfortable feeling that what was bothering Al was him. At least from the way Al avoided him, avoided eye contact, and an aura of nervousness hung around him, threatening to engulf both Al and himself.

**- - -**

They had spent some time together, although talk had been scarce. The air between them had been tense with unspoken questions and unanswerable replies. Edward had acted as nonplussed as possible, considering the circumstances, attempting to make light talk. Wisely, Alphonse avoided the one subject that was on his mind. He had, instead, puttered around like a mother hen, nagging at Edward about his clothes, and how he was looking unwell despite their so far brief spell in this hellhole. The parted ways after a few minutes, Edward bidding his brother a farewell after explaining to him that he had to report to the bastard Colonel, and with a nod of understanding, Al waved, before walking off, his armoured body clanking with each step.

Away from his brother, Edward settled into a much darker mood, as what he needed to do weighed heavily on his mind. He knew that he would have to report to the Colonel eventually, but he had no wish to do so, and would much rather put it off as long as possible. Glancing up, he noticed that he was in front of said person's location, and ducked inside.

Might as well get this over with.

Mustang was seated in front of a makeshift desk, papers scattered all over, as he noted down line after line on a cluttered sheet. Hearing the rustle at the entrance, Mustang looked up and was mildly surprised to see Fullmetal standing there. He would have thought that Edward would have sent someone else over with the report, but then again, that would have been extremely unlike him to hide behind adults and not do what he could do himself.

Edward pulled off a sloppy salute before handing a single sheet of paper over. He turned, as though ready to leave when Roy stopped him with a cough. He turned around, exasperation and weariness reflected in his golden eyes.

"What d'ya want?"

"Do you have something to say, Fullmetal?" Mustang asked the boy, a hint of a smirk in his voice. "An oral report would be nice." He wondered why he was doing this, knowing it was probably better if he simply dismissed the child, but force of habit carried through. A last scrap of the familiar.

Angrily glancing up, Edward began what sounded like half a rant, half an angry tirade. "Dammit. Can't you just read the damn report?" Taking a breath, he let fly with his words. "Eighty percent casualties. Sixty percent fatalities; Sergeant Aylesworth, Corporal Fillmore, Master Sergeant Garson, Corporal Ilsley, Sergeant Davis, Sergeant Guthrie. One missing in action, presumed dead; Master Sergeant Turner. Private Cotler and Warrant Officer Lewis suffer from minor, non-critical injuries."

By the end of his little tirade, tears leaked down from his eyes. He wiped at them with a gloved hand, annoyed that they wouldn't stop leaking out from the corners of his eyes, blurring his view of the colonel.

He stopped, as his head dropped, eyes downcast.

"Why? Is there a point to this?" His voice carried desperation, as he looked down at his own hands, which had, until recently, been still covered in the blood of men he had killed.

Mustang, however, did not reply, or rather, did not really hear. Instead, his face had visibly paled, as he fiddled with some numbers on a spare sheet. This brought casualties in his unit alone to ninety percent, fatalities to fifty two percent—some of the highest numbers yet in this damned war. It probably had to do with the amount of new recruits, or younger soldiers under his charge who had never seen the face of war. At least he could be thankful that he hadn't lost any of his friends and close comrades. Especially Fullmetal. If he had lost Fullmetal…

Clearing his head of any such thoughts, he gathered together a sheaf of papers that held lists of names, as well as their identification numbers. At the top of one list, one caught his eye, causing him to snort in amusement and disdain. Fillen Radon, Heavy Art Alchemist indeed. Still though, it did give rise to an interesting thought that Fullmetal might, or rather, would, find worthy of notice…It could wait for later, though, although it might be something to brighten up the child's day. Still, there were other things to be done first.

"Fuery!" At the sound of his name, the Sergeant instantly scurried over from the corner in the back where he had been working on a report to be sent out.

"Yes sir?"

Mustang handed the pile over to his subordinate. "To communications, Fuery. Colonel Mustang's unit."

Fuery grabbed the sheaf and tucked it under his left arm while snapping a salute. "Yes sir!"

Edward, meanwhile, was standing momentarily forgotten to the side, looking for all the world like a scared child. This surprised the Colonel mildly, but he didn't reflect upon it as he grabbed his heavy coat and ordered Edward to follow.

The boy, slightly startled at the sound of his name, obliged, albeit slowly. He scuffed his shoes in the snow as he lagged behind, keeping his eyes on the ground in front of him. The snow skittered in response to his movements, mud-stained clumps hopping ahead in front of him. Here and there, mixed in with the brown, small patches of dark red could be seen, evidence of the many wounded who had been brought along these pathways. _And the dead_ was the unacknowledged thought that he fought to keep hidden in the depths of his sub-consciousness.

Mustang wondered idly why he could no longer hear the sound of snow being kicked up behind him, as his head half turned and he allowed a small smile of amusement. Pasting that almost permanent smirk on to his face, he made a _small_ comment. "What's wrong, Fullmetal? Are your legs too _short_ to keep up?"

Edward snapped. "WHO'S SO SMALL THAT WHEN THEY WALK THEY LOOK LIKE A TWO YEAR OLD CRAWLING?!?"

With good reason, any personnel in the nearby areas wisely changed their course to avoid the screaming Major, although there would be much discussion later, in private, over the short officer.

Mustang's smirk only grew wider. "Well, then, hurry up."

Huffing angrily, Edward stalked forward past Mustang, before he stopped when he realised that he had no idea where they were going. Mustang quickly covered the distance between them, and this time, Ed kept up.

"What is it that you want to talk about anyways?" he asked, annoyed.

Mustang sighed. "Something that may be of interest. And something that should be discussed in private." A hint of exhaustion wove its way into his words, the barest suggestion that the older man was feeling the effects of bone-wearying battle again.

Silence fell between them, neither knowing quite what to say, for the remainder of the walk.

- - -

If the brass had anything in mind like they had had last time as the confrontations neared the end, the quick annihilation of the enemy, there was a good chance that they would have employed similar techniques. So far, it seemed true. They had already taken the first step with the immediate deployment of the State Alchemists, a sign that the Fuhrer had every intention to crush this before it even started, which lead the to the interesting possibility that he would go further, and reemploy the use of their 'secret weapon'. The Philosopher's Stone. Of course, in Ishbal, it had still been under development, and it had been an incomplete stone that had been given to Kimbley. Which meant that it was very likely that they had advanced its development as well as its use in warfare, creating a far more advanced Stone. And if the Fuhrer was really as committed as he seemed to ending this soon, the Stone would be re-issued. The question was, who would get one?

- - -

Mustang abruptly stopped, before turning into one of the many tents, causing Edward to first nearly crash into the Colonel's back, and then stumble over his feet trying not to fall from the sudden turn of direction as he followed the man inside. "Dammit," he grumbled, annoyance plain in his voice. "Will you stop doing that you—"

"Fullmetal. What we say here goes no further than you and Al, although the warning's probably unnecessary…"

Roy gestured for the boy to take a seat on the ground, doing the same himself. "In Ishbal," here, the man's voice faltered, unwillingly remembering the results of what had happened. "In Ishbal, the Fuhrer ordered for the development of a Philosopher's Stone. It was given to Crimson Alchemist Kimbley to test out. Dr. Marcoh, a State Alchemist, was in charge of it." He held up a hand in warning to stall the boy's likely tirade. "I didn't mention it before because first of all, it had eluded my memory. Second, because Dr. Marcoh disappeared soon after. And third, Kimbley is currently incarcerated in Central Prison."

Edward growled, wondering why the hell the bastard was telling him now of all times, as realisation dawned. "A Stone, here?"

Roy nodded. "Chances are likely. However, no indication of them being issued has been noticed, and I most certainly have not witnessed any signs that they are in use." _Yet._

Ed growled again, this time more in frustration than annoyance. "Dammit. And if a boy were to suddenly turn up in the middle of this…"

Mustang inclined his head imperceptibly, acknowledging the truth of Edward's comment.

"Yes."

From the shadows of the back of the tent which Edward hadn't noticed, Iris sat bolt upright, eyes widened in shock and horror, the image of what Sora kept in her heart etched on her face. She could still remember that night, stormy and windy, when her friend had choked out what she knew, and what was to be expected in respect to it and the future. "No way…Your, no, our, government made Stones?"

…Followed moments later by "Ow! What was that for, Sora?" Edward noticed belatedly that the other lieutenant was indeed there as well, sitting in a chair none too far away, hand still upraised after having smacked the former across the top of her head. Probably for sitting up while she was supposedly injured.

Edward flicked his eyes over to the 2nd lieutenant, curious as to where she was going with this. "From what _he_ said," referring to Mustang, "I'm assuming so."

"Human lives. That's what they draw their power from. No, are made from." Sora half turned to face them, a passive expression pasted on her face as always. Perhaps only Iris noticed the haunted, guilt-laden, shadows in her eyes, the ones that threatened to one day engulf her friend.

The woman didn't elaborate, only turned to face the bed at the very back again, her back towards the two alchemists.

"Don't enquire into it further. It might be dangerous."

* * *

I live off reviews.

Other than that...How fast future chapters get updated depend on the craziness of the summative period, and how crazy the poor beta's life is going to be. Which actually shouldn't be too bad...I think...unless the ciriculum has had a major overhaul...

Anyways, thanks goes to HughesHanajimaHIlariaHypocrite, Shewhohatescake, shinigami109, it's-not-amoose323, kwangmablade, Cold-Foxx, Kate Anne Nirvana, Kitty Kat, NoZoMi17, and Merkitten for reviews. Much :heart: to all of you!


	11. Chapter 11: A New Set of Commands

**A/N: **Voila! Chapter 11! After many long...months? of it being held hostage first by the beta, and then by me, it has finally appeared! Thank you to **Nainne** for beta as always, much love my dear, and warning for Ed's language...Sorry for everyone I couldn't reply to reviews, and thanks to Cold-Foxx, HughesHanajimaHilariaHypocrite , radcat38, ehxhfdl14, Angelus-Alvus, larsbars08, and Lupus Animi for reviews for chapter 10. Much love to you all!

** Disclaimer:** Fullmetal Alchemist and characters are the intellectual property of Arakawa Hiromu. I'm just borrowing.

* * *

"What the _fuck_?" Edward could barely keep the incredulity out of his voice as it dawned upon him just what Sora was saying. Human lives. The energy of the Stone. The reason why it was an alchemical catalyst. Why it triggered great reactions. Freakin' _human_ lives. Why equivalent exchange flew out the window whenever it came into the picture. The lives sacrificed for it were more than enough Exchange for whatever sick, twisted, energy-consuming, _impossible _transmutation one wanted to do. There was an intake of breath, and he barely registered beside him that the Colonel seemed to be in a similar state of shock, no doubt realizing the implications of all this. Though it probably took an idiot to _not_ understand the implications.

The government, the military had _known_. The military_, who's job was to protect it's citizens and insure their safety and happy __**living**_, had known. No, not just any part of the military, the very top, the brass, had known what was needed for a Stone and they had _used_ that knowledge, killing who knows how many with the one that was used in Ishbal. It was barbaric.

He supposed that he shouldn't be surprised though, given that politicians and officers in high positions were all power-hungry, moral-lacking, corrupt bastards. He couldn't help but wonder where all the people for whose lives had been sacrificed to make that Stone had come from.

Suddenly, the answer seemed as clear as day, and a sinking, sickening feeling settled in his stomach. Of course. Ishbalans. What better chance to develop a new and wondrous weapon but in the midst of a bloody civil massacre where people disappearing and dying daily was the norm? Sacrificing was much more likely, their lives given in exchange for that blood-red stone. Sacrificed like Alphonse had nearly been in exchange for something that could never be obtained.

As a general rule, Edward Elric was most definitely not a squeamish person, to be a squeamish person in the middle of a bloody war was to be a very dead person, and hell knows that he couldn't die yet, not with so many sins piling up on his head and not enough time to repent for it all, but the mere thought of the use of human lives for the purpose of advancing a power corrupt bastard's self-flattering compound among other things was enough to turn anyone's stomach.

"Shit! Ow!" Iris's exclamations brought Edward's thoughts around, catching the tail end of Sora's swift reprisal of Iris making her own decision to sit up. The glare directed in her direction was one that had had Edward on the receiving end far too often, the "move and open your wounds and die" look.

For some reason, despite the gravity of the situation, he couldn't help but burst out laughing.

- - -

"Father will be pleased."

A figure sat on top of a snowy embankment, elbow on one knee, chin resting on hand, surveying the calm, for now, scene below. A subtle breeze blew the irony scent of blood and the harsh odor of gunpowder past the figure, ruffling hair and clothing, and added to the _peaceful _atmosphere. He, or she, or it, wasn't the one who had spoken though. The speaker stood slightly behind the other, hand on one hip, her posture positively seductive. Her ample breasts were expertly displayed in just the right way that would attract any man, daring them to try and take her. An image fitting her name to the letter.

"And we'll all live happily ever after!" Envy, throwing up his arms in a childish fashion, grinning from ear to ear, replied in his overly cheerful voice, the one defaulted to when things were going exactly as they had been planned…or otherwise.

And then, the façade was dropped like a hot potato.

"We're having problems with Sloth though," he noted duly, eyes still fixed on the minute activity amid the bloody carnage below.

"Oh?" Lust arched an eyebrow delicately and gracefully, shifting her weight to the other foot, swaying her hips seductively, prompting him to continue.

Envy shifted his position so that his elbow rested on the snowy ground instead, without reaction when his bare elbow came into contact with the snow. Homunculus didn't mind the change of temperature. "Seems that he's getting _bored_ of digging and that it's _tiresome_." The homunculus played idly with a handful of snow, shaping it into a remarkable likeness of the massive homunculus, his voice dripping with disgust at his comrade.

Faster than a human eye could follow, Lust flicked out her spear-like nails, examined them with a half-hearted gaze. "He's almost done though, isn't he? As long as it's finished in good time for Father's plan, and we don't need it done until we're finished up here." she said boredly, flicking her wrist as though admiring the dangerous glinting edges and tips of her nails, before she turned to leave again, hips swaying, pushing her hair back with a bored flip of her head. "Keep a watch on things, won't you, Envy?"

Envy smirked behind her back. "Of course," he replied, before adding something under his breath, "you old hag."

Like bullets leaving the barrel, Lust's nails found themselves dangerously close to the lanky, green-haired homunculus, light glinting off of the unearthly material dangerously. She waved them in his face, the very tips poking into his (back? Face? Foot?), drawing tiny droplets of blood which collected like red, glistening dewdrops on the tips of the claws.

"Cut the chatter and get to work." The nails withdrew with a flourish. Envy could hear the unearthly black material shrinking with a sound similar to a sheathing sword, before letting out the breath that he didn't know he was holding. "Hmm…they seem a bit dull…"

Envy was nonplussed. Even if Lust had run him through, it wouldn't have really mattered, now, would it?

- - -

Serious repercussions. That's what they had said, and then had promptly kicked him out while they continued to discuss something or other that could have "serious repercussions". It was some small consolation that it wasn't because of his age for once, since the other woman, Second Lt. Mustang, was standing right beside him, outside of their little, super important discussion.

And what was more, he had been _ordered_ to _occupy_ himself with a discussion with the Lieutenant, and the bastard Colonel had even implied that he was too _small_ too engage in intelligent conversation.

Although, from an outsider point of view, it did appear so, since Major Elric was standing sullenly just outside the tent flap, and was acting his age for once, quite nicely.

Not that he cared much for rank, but he did enjoy that in theory, he outranked both of the older women, although it was quite surprising to find that they were both commissioned officers, and none too old at that. Ambition probably ran in their blood.

"It's for your own good, you know?"

The woman's voice broke into Edward's musings. She shifted restlessly, watching the younger boy. "Sora…What I said last night…" Was it just last night? "We came…well, I came, because she couldn't stand it. I know that she hated it, hated the fact that she was good at everything, hated the special treatment she got for being so closely related to one of the Emperor's blood, hated the elevated 'training' that she went through." Her voice was bitter, hatred colouring her words, and she spat, her eyes clouded with unmasked fury.

"Especially after Roy left, that was around when things got worse. It was painful, painful to see her come over in the evening, ostensibly to play, but more to seek another human's company. We were too old to cry, but I knew that she was crying, I knew that she came also to seek comfort in Aunty's arms. It hurt to see someone so close to me, so hurt, and I could do nothing but carry on my life, offer usual tidbits of conversation, attempt to entice a smile or a laugh out of her sombre expression." Iris glowered darkly as she scuffed the snow with a booted foot.

"She told me, eventually. She told me almost everything. I hadn't seen her for a week, she didn't go to school, and when she did come again, it had been raining furiously, and she was drenched, and sick. Her father came to pick her up two days later, when the rain had died down enough and the roads were dry enough for the carriages to travel. During those nights, she told me. The elders had learned how to make something for immortality, an Elixir. But it took human lives. Other, living humans.

"Of course, I don't think it revolted us as much as you did, since we were so used to scenes of carnage. It was a test of honour for a woman to have killed many enemies before she married, a show of her worthiness and strength to her husband.

"We were all trained young for it, all of us that had any status in the clan, at least. Sora…she had always been focused on. From a young age, it was obvious she was talented, a prodigy. She always came out top in studies of literature, numbers, embroidery, combat, everything. And she was of the blood that ran through one of the Emperor's sons ran through her as well. She would be perfect to carry out what the elders wanted, and bring glory and honour to the clan and elevate it even further, and bring honour to herself.

"We left Xing when we were around 18. Many of our friends had married by then, but the elders prevented Sora from marrying, since she was needed to bring honour to the clan. I kept her company? It sucked that the actual prince was such a pudding head, leaving his cousin to do the dirty work. I knew…Sora wanted to leave, wanted to run away from it all. I knew Roy had left to join the Amestris military, where his blood ran as well. So we left. Or rather, I dragged her with me. I guess…I'm one of those that are loyal to a fault, willing to do anything to protect my friends, my "master". Since, following etiquette, that's what she was to me. No one really paid much attention to that, but she was of the Royal family, if only by marriage.

"It took us a while to get here, even by ship. The first thing I did was to change my name to 'Mustang', and my first name to 'Iris'." The woman paused, a bemused expression on her face of her own memories. "Funny how promises work, sometimes."

"We knew a couple of other Xingnese in Amestris, so we stayed with them while we obtained citizenship. Surprisingly, it wasn't hard. I figured that the best place for us would be the military, since it was what we knew how to do, and it was where my cousin had gone. It's been pretty easy going since then."

Edward, for the most part, had been staring at the ground, seemingly uninterested to the casual observer, but his posture betrayed the fact that he was paying attention to every word. Iris smiled; as though amused at something he didn't know, and he looked up at her, glowering, as though daring her to tell him exactly what she found so funny, and risk getting beaten to a pulp. "You're wondering why I'm telling you this, aren't you? A complete stranger pouring out her life's tale?" Edward started, eyes widening with interest, and curiosity, no doubt filing everything away for future reference in his mind. "Roy told me about your brother. I felt that you might understand. I haven't told Roy either about what happened after he left, why me and Sora are here. Actually…" The Lieutenant trailed off as she thoughtfully tapped her fingers against her arm. _He probably knew that I would tell him, the manipulative jerk._ It made sense though. Where she might shy from telling her cousin, there was nothing wrong with this kid.

"Anyways, I have to go check on my unit now, boost the morale of my non-coms and all that."

Edward was left behind as he stared at the retreating back of the Colonel's cousin. And he decided that there were at least two things in this bloody, crazy world that he could count on forever remaining the same. _Women sure are strange_, he thought. _And the Colonel's still a bastard_.

At that moment, said 'bastard' came out of the tent, his face decidedly pale, with the relatively quiet First Lieutenant just a few steps behind him. Noting that Edward was still actually there, he nodded in acknowledgement at the boy, who gave him a blank look back, unsure of what to say. "Reinforcements are coming today, by the way, and I believe that the proper rest of your unit is among them." With another nod of dismissal, the Colonel walked off leaving behind a very dazed Edward.

Stalking off, he scratched his head in thought and irritation, clawing through his hair with his automail arm angrily. "Aaah, this just doesn't make any sense!" he growled, frustrated at, well, everything, that had happened in so short a period of time. There was just too much information to process, too many revelations, too many goals that needed revising, too many obstacles, too many… Bastards like the colonel running the world. Too many of everything, and just one of Edward.

From a distance, Iris saw the boy stalk off, and smiled grimly. He was still a boy now, but by the time this was over, she knew that him, and many others, would emerge as a man.

And she fervently wished that she would be able to see that final result of the war, if they lived long enough to get through this hell.

- - -

Night fell without incident, bringing sleep to many tired eyes trying to catch what rest they could. Not all were asleep, though. Alphonse Elric sat up, untiringly, as he watched the rise and fall of Edward's chest, his face one of peaceful calm. He wondered what his brother was thinking right now, wondered what disturbed dreams passed beneath unsuspecting eyelids. Alphonse knew that since the time they had transmuted their mother, Edward often woke up during the night, pulled from restless sleep by a soundless scream. Most of the time, he never remembered the incident. But Alphonse did.

He didn't sleep, and he remembered every time when Edward sat straight upright, sweat pouring off his face, he remembered how each time his brother flailed in bed, his face a frozen mask of horror. He knew that Edward was pulling the burden onto himself again.

And he couldn't do anything about it. All he could do was take the best care he could of his brother, and hope that it all ended just fine like brother always promised it would.

- - -

Dawn cast its rosy light over a scene of hushed activity. Sometime in the night, a fresh batch of troops had arrived, and the numbers of the Amestris troops had swelled. Soldiers and officers hurried, hoping to take this opportunity of an increase of force to continue the push into Drachman land. The remainder of many battalions and regiments arrived, replenishing the severely depleted troops.

Major Elric, however, was completely stunned by the number he was expected to take command of. As a Major, even if he had only the command power of a Captain, he had under him 150 men. Among those, five were Lieutenants, as well as an assortment of 16 Warrant Officers, Master Sergeants, and Sergeants.

Of course, those numbers paled in comparison to the entirety of Colonel Mustang's battalion. Totalling a thousand men and women, 6 companies rested under his command, including Major Elric's. It was truly a sight to behold. In total, there were five companies currently at the front, around five thousand men. More would be shipped up north as time passed, another couple of brigades would be needed. It was the Fuhrer's intent to secure this area in the shortest time possible, and maybe even snatch another piece of territory to add to the ever-growing hulk of land that was Amestris.

That was the big picture. What Edward was focusing on right now, however, was how the hell he was going to _find_ his assigned company in the first place. Hell, he hated that bastard Colonel right now for sticking him into this. _It was your own choice to make in the first place_, some inner voice berated him. _Shut up!_

Oh great. Now he was arguing with himself. Not that he was going to get anything done by it. Growling beneath his breath, he turned his steps towards where the Colonel had said his brigade, and by right of command, Ed's company, was massing. Thankfully, they weren't hard to find at all.

Or rather, he wasn't hard to find for them. The Colonel had evidently provided them with a short description of Major Elric, stating that he was lacking in stature and that his especially flaxen hair would be a clear indicator. Indeed, his height was at least a head shorter than anyone else, and the way the early morning sun shone down, it reflected off of Edward's golden crown of hair brilliantly.

A young man, not too much older than himself, nearly bowled over the young Major. Breathlessly, he came to attention in front of Edward. "Major Elric?"

Edward eyed the young private suspiciously. "That's me. What do you want?"

Slightly cowed by the glare from the State Alchemist, he stammered slightly as he spoke. Great, another squeamish pansy. Another dead man. "Um, sir, the Colonel said it'd be, uh, best to look for you, sir. I'm, uh, Private Dean from your company, sir."

Growling mentally, Edward stared down, or rather, up, at the hapless man, easily guessing what the answer would be to his question. "And just _how_ did the Colonel say to find me…Private?"

Private Dean swallowed nervously. Lacking in height the Major may be, but he certainly wasn't in other areas. Like intimidating others. He barely managed to get one word out. "Small…"

Edward was furious. Such a pity he couldn't let it show. Instead, he contented himself to just one, loud, outward snarl of frustration as he motioned for the private to lead him to the men. That, and of course, a constant, silent stream of curses. _I'll get you back for that you bastard Colonel, you jerk-head. Who'd you say was so small that they'd pale in comparison against a single flake of snow? I'll beat you to a bloody pulp when I get my hands on you, you flea-minded, thick-skulled, stupidly oversized, son of a bitch, indecently big… _

And promptly ran out of proper adjectives.

_Meanie head…_

Thankfully for the poor, pseudo insult-assailed Colonel, it wasn't long before the two arrived at the proper company. It was all Edward could do to not scream a new string of curses and maybe make a face or two at the self-pompous bastard just a few metres away. As it was, his face was dark enough with his fury that not one of the troops even dared to make a word of mention about how he was shorter, and younger, than they had expected. If they were going to die on this god-forsaken piece of land, they'd much rather it be at the hands of the enemy than of their irate commander.

Shuffling turned to silence as the Colonel addressed the assembled troops. It was probably a wonderful, heart-warming, patriotic, and inspiring speech written by a bunch of idiot high-ranking officers who didn't give a shit about what happened to the soldiers who were actually doing their dirty work. Quite frankly, Edward didn't give a damn. He was almost relieved when it was over, but growled as the Colonel's voice grated in his ears as he accounted for the six companies.

"21st East Company. Major Buren."

"Sir!" The man snapped stiffly to attention before leading his troops away.

"23rd Central Company. Lt. Colonel Hughes."

"Sir!" All familiarity put aside in times of strife, he too left with his company.

"11th South Company. Major Clark, Glacial Alchemist."

"Sir!" A balding, middle-aged man, with a bushy moustache who left Edward with the impression of a walrus, although others seemed to be more impressed with the silver chain dangling from his pocket. He left too. Hm, he hadn't known that the Colonel had another State Alchemist under his command. Edward began to hope that whatever company number his was supposed to be would be called soon.

"22nd East Company. Captain Meighen."

"Sir!" He looked rather young to be commanding such a large number, a scant twenty or so years, probably, but Ed supposed he had no right to talk.

"5th Central Company. Major Adams."

"Sir!" Edward growled under his breath as the man snapped to attention and left with his men. He bet that the Colonel had left him last just to piss him off.

"25th Eastern Company. Major Elric, Fullmetal Alchemist."

"Sir." Edward did salute, and he did acknowledge it, but it was more insolent and cheeky than respectful. Mustang quirked an eyebrow at the boy, but nodded for him to leave. Although, as Edward left with his hundred and fifty or so men he couldn't resist sticking his tongue out ever so slightly at the Colonel's retreating back.

Phase two of the "war" had begun.

And it wasn't going to be pretty.

* * *

Thank you for reading! -cue in all the normal pleas, begging, bribery, and blackmail for reviews-

Chapter 12 by the time school comes around? After I come back from the land of minimal computer time? Maybe?


	12. Chapter 12: Love from Hell

**A/N:** Eh, school's started...Anyways, here's chapter 12. There's been a one month time-skip since chapter 11. Well, I did say I'd do this chapter by myself, so Nainne didn't go through this, but thanks to Mikka for checking for any stupid mistakes, major and minor. I think that's it...Nainne has already sent back chapter 13, but me being the lazy ass I am, I haven't gotten any progress on chapter 14 just yet. It's like...specific writer's block on just that particular spot. It's driving me nuts...Bah. I hope you enjoy this chapter

** Disclaimer:** All characters and ideas belong to respective owners...

* * *

Iris scuffed at some snow as she made her way back from checking up on her unit, making sure everything was in order. She was losing less men lately, many of them having already faced the brutalities of war for over a month now. Odds were that if you could survive the first month in the hellhole, you'd have a much better chance of staying alive. 

So far, things were looking good. She hadn't lost any of her dear friends, although lost comrades were plenty, and Roy seemed to be holding up okay, if not a bit cold. There had been a really big argument though, between the Elric boy and Roy, and the boy's younger brother. Or rather, it had been an argument between the two brothers with Roy watching and occasionally interrupting to insert his own comments. The boy had apparently won out in the end, since he seemed to have managed to get his younger brother out of this god-forsaken place. She didn't blame him.

Besides, Sora had remarked to her that tensions were escalating; both between the two brothers, and between the two countries. The elder Elric wanted his brother out, now. He had probably never wanted him here in the first place, but he was becoming increasingly insistent.

Now that his brother had left, Edward had moved his lodgings. Though both his rank as a Major as well as his status as a State Alchemist dictated that he have his own, he hated pulling rank on anything, and to tell the truth, Edward didn't like being alone.

Originally, he had planned on bunking in with some of his men, but Roy had _suggested_ that he bunk with him. After much protesting, and insults, Edward had reluctantly agreed. Iris sniggered at the memory. Her cousin was really far too nice.

- - -

Roy gave a cursory glance at the young man standing in front of him, reporting on the latest reports that had been gleaned from forages into enemy ground, before directing his gaze once again to the sliver of the outside world that could be seen in a crack where the tent flaps didn't quite close up right. It was snowing, as it had been for the past two months, fluffy flakes drifting down as they pleased when, at times like this, the wind deemed itself to be unnecessary to the mortal world. Back south, it would be snowing like this too, having entered the seasons of winter. And when the cold months passed over, spring would come to Amestris, heralding the green spring of young love, and awakening the sleeping land. Summer would cast its glaring light, the sun warming the growing crops with its benevolence.

Or so Roy thought. Such times seemed far, far away in such a barren land of blinding white, and they might as well have been years away from such lushness. Idly, he wondered if that was indeed closer to the truth than it seemed.

A cold draft picked up outside, and carried with it some of its refreshing, but biting, breath into the command tent, snapping the Colonel back to reality. The Sergeant was just finishing up, reeling of a last few numbers, and mentioning a number of charts of the geographical layout. The report done, he ended with a smart salute, placed the stack of papers on the desk, and was dismissed.

The Colonel sighed as he leafed through the report, knowing he'd have to look through them later. Glancing through the neatly typed pages, he suppressed a chuckle as he remembered the hastily scrawled script of Edward's mission reports, and the always eventful sessions when he reported back in. Oh yes, he had griped over how hard it was to read and how much of a headache it gave him to hear the boy screaming, but in this sort of alternate bleakness, it seemed a small price to pay to break the monotony of peace.

When Edward had finally, with the support of Roy's cousin—somehow, chivvied Alphonse out of the north and back home to Winry, Roy couldn't help but feel responsible for the younger alchemist. Call him crazy, or maybe it was the boy's silent accusations getting to him, but he did almost feel like this was his fault. He hadn't really said anything, nor had he protested – because what was the use? – when the order came for the boy to come to this hellish place, but now that things had been said and done, he wished that he had. He supposed it was kind of a way of retribution, but if he could keep an eye on the boy for his brother, that'd have to be good enough

- - -

Two months at the front had taken its toll on everyone, but it showed particularly on Edward. Perhaps it was because he was still young, or growing, but either way, his looks had deteriorated more than the others. His cheeks had lost the remainder of their baby fat, bones stood out sharply, and shadows accentuated themselves beneath his eyes. His eyes, while before, had seen the depths of hell already, now held too much for someone his age. They were haunted by death, fuelled by the fire of determination, both unwilling to die out, violently coexisting. He had killed many. Hundreds, or even thousands, perhaps. He had seen them die from afar, and just a few centimetres from his face, their expressions contorted with pain and fear. He had dropped most of his inhibitions now, focusing merely on getting this over with and surviving until it was done. Men were crushed, spiked, and run through at his hands, many at a time, often falling before the two forces met. He was a great asset to the Amestrian troops.

With their numbers reinforced, the Amestrians simply ploughed through Drachman lines, crushing and destroying all in the way. They left behind them a trail littered with dead bodies, makeshift graves, field hospitals, and POW camps. Until now, large open areas being the stages for the bloody plays were the norm, grenades and bombs whizzing over head to land and explode, followed with shots with rifles and machine-guns, before the two sides clashed in a bloody free-for all. However, ahead was the Drachmans' home territory, and with it, plenty of places to hide. It wasn't the place for two massive armies facing off, charging head to head, but where smaller battles, little pockets of squadrons, would be the decisive factors. Amestrians had not been raised in a land where stepping wrong was a sure path to death. Drachmans were.

The area ahead was hilly, many plateaus and dips characterising the land. Occasionally, as if the mountains flanking the land refused to disappear, an icy peak showed its teeth. It was treacherous; one false step could send a man plummeting to their death. It was something the Drachmans knew well—and they were going to exploit it to the best they could. Desperate times drew desperate tactics.

Of course, the same went for the Amestrian side. It didn't matter that few soldiers had been stationed in the north. They had alchemists, scientists. They could strike too. The question was, who could do it better, fastest.

In this case, whoever struck first could very well gain the upper hand.

- - -

"_Yes, Al, I am perfectly fine. Take care of Winry and make sure she doesn't hit anyone with a wrench. And yes, it's much better if you stay put and that you _did_ head back home. Besides, this war business isn't worth it for both of us. And no, I'm not hurt, I'm not hungry, and I'm not too tired. Although I can't help but feel that Colonel bastard is trying to work me to death. I heard we're making another push tomorrow, so I have to check on the men. No women in my company. But really, we're just used to Lieutenant Hawkeye and Lieutenant Ross I guess. Remember those two Lieutenants? One is the Colonel's cousin? They're pretty nice. I think that you'd like them, given the chance. Stay safe, Al. I hope you've been busy at the libraries. Until later, _

_—Edward _

_P.S. I GREW A CENTIMETER!"_

Edward sighed as he signed the letter he had penned to his brother. Okay, maybe he was exaggerating a bit at the last line. But he _had_ grown. He was honestly glad that he didn't have to worry about Al though. Yeah, he did miss him a lot, but it was better than the thought of even the possibility that he might get caught up in the bombing, and he'd lose him. That…wasn't something he could bear to even think about. No, he'd get through this alive, and hopefully pick up some useful information while at it. Although…Well, he hadn't told Al about what he had learned about the Stone, and he was still doggedly persisting that there had to be another way around it. The problem was, the more and more he thought about it, the more correct it seemed to be. And unfortunately, that didn't help much, even disregarding the fact that his location wasn't quite the best place to be doing research.

Apart from being a soldier and a dog of the military, even in this kind of hellish place, he was still working. He had drawn out thousand of equations, written a million words in notes, working himself to the extreme. He had to; he had promised.

With another sigh, he flipped open his silver pocket watch, sparing a glance at the inside of the cover before taking note of the time. It was late again. To operate fully, he'd have to be rested; it wasn't so that he could kill more people, no, that wasn't in his interests. Rather, he'd need to keep alert to survive.

Still running through equations in his head, he snuffed out the candle as he crawled into his sleeping bag. The moon was bright that night, and although it was only a quarter moon, it shed enough light to dimly illuminate the world that lay in apprehensive calmness below. By the low light, Edward could barely make out the figure of the Colonel, asleep, although his hands were still gloved and his guns rested in easy reach.

It wouldn't do to be unprepared.

Without looking, Edward knew that the gun that had been handed to him by Alphonse from the Colonel was resting not even a foot away, and that another rested beneath his head. How troublesome. How…grotesque.

A tool to take lives. Like him. Like the Colonel. Just another weapon. Useful for only as long as the master needed it.

With such reassuring thoughts in his mind, Edward drifted off to a fitful sleep.

_Awake…it's so dark. I'm sleeping. Awake. Dark. Sleep. _

_Blood. There was so much blood. His blood._

_Where was his brother? Had he really disappeared?_

_Mother? Where was Mother? Why was there that _thing_ where Mother should be? Where had Alphonse gone?_

_Gone? Alphonse? Al was gone? His little brother?_

_No! It couldn't be! A wave of relief washed over him as Alphonse's smiling face materialized from the darkness of a soul. _

"_Brother?" Al's voice was soft, and Edward had to strain his ears to hear. "Brother…" His voice was louder this time, more confident, a statement. And accusatory._

_Edward could only watch in horror as his dear, sweet brother's face morphed into cold, hard, unforgiving steel. And more blood… "How could you do this, brother? To me?"_

_Edward tried to step back, but only succeeded in landing in his own blood. "No…no…!"_

_The armoured head came closer, ever closer. "To Mother? Mother is dead. I'm gone." _

_Edward felt his soul seized with fear and guilt, terror etched into his heart._

_Suddenly, tempered steel gave way to flesh again. Bloody, torn, mutilated flesh._

_A face of a nameless Drachman soldier, black holes where eyes should have gone, crimson staining tainted flesh; the man who had bloodied the remainder of Edward's childlike innocence._

_And Edward screamed. For his brother._

In the waking world, Edward sat bolt up, waken from the throes of a nightmare, his brother's name on his lips and torn from his throat. Only thing was, it was completely muffled by a hand stifling his scream.

For a few brief seconds, he was again a young child caught in the terror of the blackest patterns his tormented heart could weave. The darkness held him for those moments, tearing at him, exposing his vulnerability. Making him wish for Alphonse, for a mother.

For a few brief seconds. That was all. And then he was the Fullmetal Alchemist again, with only the thoughts of getting out of wherever he was alive, and reaching his goal. After those few seconds, he shook the last vestiges of sleep from his mind, scowling mentally at the hand that still covered his mouth…and was connected to the Colonel.

And found himself staring straight into the Colonel's eyes. They weren't looking at him, for which he was thankful, because he could quite honestly say that they scared him. They were cold, hard, merciless, not a trace of the usual mocking smirk remaining. Eyes of a killer, of a killer out on the hunt, anticipating a kill, steeling himself against the spurt of blood, or in this case, the smell of burnt flesh.

Indeed, when Edward had pushed off the Colonel's hand in mild indignation, and had turned to vent his frustration, he saw the shadow that just barely showed against the canvas, and wisely clamped his mouth shut. And watched.

Moments later, he wished he hadn't.

The silence was deafening, stifling the atmosphere, providing an appropriate backdrop for a scene of darkness as the moon shielded itself and its beams behind a dark cloud. Things happened then, and they happened fast. In a burst of speed, whoever had been lurking just outside, dashed in, guns flashing, grenade in one hand—and was promptly turned into charcoal.

Edward watched with horrified fascination as the man in the grey uniform—for it was clearly so, illuminated under the wrathful flames—squirmed and shrieked and screamed in the pain of being roasted alive. He was thankful that it lasted all of two seconds, and even those two seconds were far too long. And then the action began. Again.

How often had things like this happened? How often had it been that one side or the other had charged their enemy's base under cover of darkness? How often had he clapped his hands together, only to applaud another man's death?

The element of surprise removed, the world became transformed into one that Edward Elric had come to know too well in the past month or so. A world of utter hell.

_Blood._

- - -

It had become a common pattern to attack while the other party might have been sleeping, and so everyone ensured to keep a hand on their weapons and an eye open as they caught a few moments of rest between watches. The chances that the majority of the men would be caught unawares was slim.

And so, from the moment the Colonel roasted the unfortunate Drachman alive, troops were on alert and had their equipment ready in mere seconds, and waited for orders. The officers hurried out as well, and with the enemy showing themselves by the flashes of bullet fire, all the pieces were present, and the deadly chess game began.

It was for reasons like this that Edward was glad for his brother being far away. When things erupted suddenly like this, he wouldn't be able to protect his brother. Of course, when he had said that to Al, the younger boy had reassured Edward that he was perfectly capable of taking care of himself. That, Edward knew. But what he was trying to protect his brother from wasn't physical damage; Alphonse was fine in that field—he was trying to protect Al's innocence. Really, it was all too ironic.

Either way, Edward grimaced as he pulled of his gloves—no sense in ruining more than he could spare—and slammed his hands together, wincing slightly at the coldness of the metal biting at bare flesh. Clap, bang, clap, mush. Quickly and easily, he cleared a path to the head of his unit, although it was more of a pleasantry than anything. Giving a quick check over in the dim light to see if he was missing a significant portion at all, he signalled for them to focus on a section of enemy soldiers that had yet to be hacked away yet.

As before, like always, it was bloody. From the constant stream of flashes, from gun and of alchemical energy, that easily illuminated the surrounding area, it was easy to see the mass scene of carnage that could occur in three mere minutes. Arms without bodies, bodies without heads, heads without brains, legs and torsos disconnected, and guts and stomachs spewed and trampled over. Then there were the normal bodies that lay whole, some still alive as they were tread underfoot, some barely twitching as they cried out in pain and desperation, others fallen dead still. Then, there was the other class of dead and wounded; those who had been charred beyond recognition and were left to cool after being the centre of a fiery inferno.

Ed grimaced as he felt his automail-blade scrape and slide between ribs, the edge sharply incising heart and lung alike. His victim gurgled a bit, lung fluid and blood bubbling out of his mouth, before he fell down dead. Edward spared a split second to glance back at the man whose life he had just ended, and unwillingly, the dead man's face became seared into his memory. Maybe another tenth of a second as he felt a shudder pass through him, as he remembered the numerous other men whose faces had burned themselves into his mind, and then he moved on to the next. And the next. And then the next ten or twenty all at once. Another ten or twenty. And more.

His company was diligently arranged near him, providing him with cover and sniping off those who might get into range. A small pocket of blue-uniformed men a few meters to his right were struggling against a far greater number of those in grey—two seconds, a sharp crack and slam later, and every single grey-clad man, to a man, of that group lay with their innards spilled out for the crows.

By now, Fullmetal had settled safely into his routine, his bubble. He was wrecking a path of destruction around him, bodies littering the ground where evidence of his work lay, crimson painting the background. He had a good solid company around him too, and wherever he made space, they surged forward, making good progress.

Meanwhile, the Flame Alchemist was quickly snapping his fingers as fast as he was able to, aiming for larger pockets of enemy soldiers where his alchemy could do the greatest damage. This was somewhat different from Ishbal, since there, he had been taking out large city blocks, buildings at a time. Here, he had to be more precise, more controlling, since he could risk singeing his own men.

Like every State Alchemist on the field, he had a good number of men detailed to watching his back, apart from the battalion he commanded. It was of this unit that Lieutenant Hawkeye, Lieutenant Havoc, Lieutenant Breda, Warrant Officer Falman, and Sergeant Fuery, at their various ranks belonged to. All told, he had maybe fifty of his own, a good enough number that, like in Ishbal, he could never remember who was in his party or not. Or more specifically, who had died.

On that point, he noticed a soldier just in front and to the left, most likely from his unit, fall with a bullet in his thigh. He hoped someone would get to him, but if no one did, that'd just be another lowly soldier who had lost their life and who he had probably spoken to at most once.

Responding to a shout directed at him, he whirled around to face behind him, fingers already snapping, mind already working with the equations as he turned. He watched impassively as a Drachman soldier disintegrated into charcoal a metre or so away, a soundless scream tearing from the enemy's throat. Another job well done.

_Bang_. Hawkeye sighted her targets carefully along her sniper rifle, conveniently situated between two small bumps on higher ground. Her sights were trained on the Colonel, his safety a target above all else. She occasionally longed to swivel to search for Edward, but restrained herself, since those mere seconds could cost the Colonel his life. Instead, she watched vigilantly, aimed carefully, and pulled the trigger quickly and without hesitation. She would not let the Colonel die.

Private Cotler gasped as a bullet just barely grazing his side elicited a shock of pain. Well, that was one reason. The other was that the Major had just nearly missed him as he crushed an attacker in a giant stone fist, causing the unfortunate man's bones to be ground into a fine powder.

In the almost two months he had been attached to the Fullmetal Alchemist's unit, he had watched as the boy grew more and more ruthless, and seemingly cold-hearted—at least on the battlefield. It was probably soon after the Major's brother had left that the change first became noticeable; it was as if a caged, starved wolf had been released into a flock of sheep. As the wolf tore indiscriminately at flesh and fleece alike, so did the Major rip into the enemy.

Tearing his mind back to present situations, he quickly inserted another cartridge into his gun, and ducked behind a giant stone fist and began firing.

Yes, the Major was ruthless in battle, wreaking paths of devastation among the enemy, but Cotler knew that when he went to check on the Major later that night, he would probably hear the Major softly crying to himself again, and he would stand outside and listen, and wait. He had to wonder why there was such a young boy _here_ in the first place, or in the military at all, but it wasn't his place. Of course, he, and the rest—to a man, had wondered quite intensely about that, when they had first seen him, but as he watched the boy day after day, he felt the question hang more and more clearly.

It wasn't that the boy wasn't capable—the Major was an extremely good officer; no unreasonable orders, he was kind to the men, order was very well established, and he was like a beacon of light in battle. Edward was all a soldier could ask for in a commanding officer. That wasn't to say though, that there wasn't some resentment among the ranks for being under someone so young—and inexperienced.

Well, at least no one had called the Major 'short' yet.

Berating himself again for his lack of total attention to the fighting, Cotler stifled a mental snicker and wrenched himself out of his wandering thoughts, making sure to keep at least one and a half eyes on the Major. Later was later. Now was now. If he wanted a 'later' to deal with, he'd have to not die here, first.

- - -

By now, Edward had come to recognise the 'retreat' call of the Drachmans, having heard it enough in the past month or so, and breathed a sigh of relief as, not for the first time, the enemy soldiers scrambled away for their lives. His duty was done, he was alive, he would put this behind and…no, he would not forget. He would remember this time forever, a consequence of his idiotic actions as an immature child, a penance for what he had done to his brother.

Around him, many soldiers continued firing at the retreating troops, squashing as many as they could before they got out of range, since however many died now was that same number they wouldn't have to deal with after. However, Edward simply sat down, his legs giving way under him, and pulled his knees to his chest and watched. A shiver of horror passed through him as his mind gave an involuntary slip. _The snap of a bone. The sound a blade made as it sliced through skin. How it sounded as the lopped off head hit the ground. How easily his knife could cut flesh, the way a spine offered resistance, how the blood lubricated the steel blade as it severed life-blood._

Edward tensed, memory releasing and ensnaring him again.

_The sound of a bullet cutting through the air._

He bit back a gasp as a wave of unexpected pain washed over him, closing the curtains in front of his eyes and sending him spiralling into darkness.

* * *

So that was chapter 12. Not certain when I'll be posting chapter 13. Depends on if the library/computer lab will be open during spare or not...Ah, also, someone mentioned that it was a bit too violent, if anyone ever has any comments on that, or on anything else, don't hesitate to give me a shout. 

-Insert "please review" bribes here-

: ) Sony


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